Change of Plans
by Ranranami
Summary: Star decides not to listen or ride with the boys anymore, but David's got his eyes on Michael, and as for Sam...well, hard to buy comics when you lose your wallet.
1. The Wine

Author's notes: Probably one of our simplest stories (next to my own personal 'Flat Root Beer' and Drabbles collection. All in two deliciously massive chapters.

* * *

Plenty of fun on the boardwalk tonight. Concerts always seemed to bring out the best food for miles, more drunken teenagers and unwitting couples ready to go to just about any and every party, open for any kind of invitation to the more isolated stretches of beach if there was even the slightest hint of more booze and fun. Star was out of their hair for now, off to finally make her first damn kill and stop dragging them down with her irritatingly constant moping. It wore thin the first week, hell, the first day. With the boys, especially David, they had held out for awhile, days, weeks even but they hadn't whined about it, hadn't gone about their lives listlessly, no, they'd fought back but in the end the inevitable won out and they fed. Paul was the exception to the rule, the little bastard had bit in day one. He'd been too high to fight it much, even now a joint always seemed to turn him into a pig.

" _You think she'll feed the kid, too?"_ Dwayne's voice echoed in David's mind. Babysitting duties were always up to him when Star didn't have him tailing at her bangled skirt. God only knew why Max decided an ankle biter would be a smart idea.

" _I still think we should just get rid of the kid."_ David replied, " _I don't think she's even going to feed now, bet she's just trying to get away from us for awhile."_ He glared out at the boardwalk, honestly he was sick and tired of dealing with both of them. This weird new family theme Max was trying to force on them was getting real fucking old, real fast. Old bastard had finally cracked.

" _Let's go bug 'daddy',"_ Marko suggested, biting the thumb of his glove and winking at a group of girls as they walked by, giggling at the bad boys on their bikes.

" _Can only make the night better."_ David said with a shrug, dismounting his bike and heading toward the video store, hands shoved in his pockets. They passed by a skinny woman with a pixie cut split between trying to help a little boy find his mom and lecturing what could only be her son. Something about skipping a concert his brother was at because he'd lost his wallet, begging her for some change to play a carnival game…he might as well have been ten, as whiney as he sounded.

David hated kids. They were little brats who did nothing but complain and try to get whatever they wanted. Then they'd get their sticky fingers all over whatever shit that wasn't theirs. More than once he'd eaten one of 'em for touching his bike. Cotton candy was a bitch to get off leather.

Max was making moon eyes with his ten-pound glasses when they walked through the door, staring at the skinny house frau before his face immediately stormed over at the sight of them interrupting his view. The mutt was growling.

" _What? Can't stop in and say 'hi, dad'?"_ David sneered, smirking at him as he went over to a rack of videos.

" _I'm busy,"_ Max snarled in their minds, schooling his expression when the skinny woman came in holding the little boy's hand and her whiney son followed.

"Mooooom, just a couple bucks! C'mon, I'm good for it, you _know_ I'm good for it!" The teen insisted, his tacky coat trailing behind him and sweeping the floors at the same time.

"Enough, Sam!" She chided, bringing the little boy to the counter.

" _Leave!"_ Max commanded, offering a lollypop to the little boy and then the woman while he tried to focus on the woman. He had no candy to offer the third and loudest member of the little group. Another woman swept into the store to gather her child and left.

" _Nah, I think we're gonna stick around and watch you make goo-goo eyes."_ David chuckled softly. Paul drummed a video on the back counter as if he were debating about taking it with him before the boys moved to another part of the store.

Marko, Dwayne, and Paul swept quickly to the register, while Paul obnoxiously remarked to the chick behind it, "we only come here to watch one thing!"

"Well done," Max told the woman, who laughed as she took a lollipop from him.

"A dollar...one dollar, that's all. I swear. Just a buck...that's like...less than a burger," her son butted in to Max's attempts at flirting.

She looked down at him with a sigh, "Sam, I said no." She said firmly.

David grinned, walking behind the woman, " _Dinner tonight?"_ He questioned, licking his lips so only Max could see.

" _No,"_ Max replied, clapping his hands together and focusing on the woman in front of him, "my name's Max," he offered his hand. She smiled as she offered to take his hand, but her son quickly took it instead. Max kept his smile plastered on, settling on Sam's handshake with a laugh. "What can I help you with? We've got the best selection of video tapes in Santa Carla," Max didn't even bother looking back at David or the boys, finishing their conversation with a flare of satisfaction, " _boys, meet your new mother...and brother…"_

"You got a dollar you don't need?" Sam asked Max hopefully, shocking his mother into silence.

David snarled, " _No fucking way. That little shit is no brother of mine, not ever."_

The woman took a deep breath, "I'm Lucy, and I'm actually not looking for a tape…" She looked over at her son with a warning glare, "or money...what I need is-"

"A job?" Max queried, savoring David's anger like a rich dessert. He was an asshole.

"Yes," She laughed softly, "a job."

"I thought I told you not to come in here anymore?" Max looked back up at the boys, all but dismissing them. He'd made his point.

" _This isn't over, old man."_ David glared at him before glancing at Paul, " _Go ahead and take a movie Paul, whatever one you want."_ He looked back at Max, " _When we get home we can pull it apart and see how it works. Make it a new release while you're at it."_

Paul grinned, bobbing on his feet and hopping towards one of the video racks to snatch up a clamshell case, "see ya round, momma," he cooed at Lucy with a wink, following the rest of them out the door.

"Wild kids," Max huffed when they were nearly out of earshot. "Good thing they already paid for that this morning," he added, as if trying to make some sort of stupid impression and save the moment.

Back at their bikes, Star took her sweet time joining them. Still a halfling. Still pouting with Laddie at her heels.

David narrowed his eyes slightly, "What took so long?" He bit out, "Still nothing to show for all that wasted time."

She climbed on to the back of his bike with him and wrapped her arms about his waist, glancing back off into the crowd to watch a stormy-looking brunette who must have been following her. David's gaze followed hers and he took a moment to examine the teen. The way he focused on Star so intently, he'd probably make an easy first kill, but...there was something about him that gave David pause. He'd have to do a little following of his own and find out more about the kid, maybe he'd make a better companion than Star ever thought of being. Every time he even touched her, she acted as if she'd just been freshly raped, or like she expected his attempted caress to devolve into a disfiguring assault, and he was sick of it. Sometimes he'd look into her large, terrified eyes, and picture carving them out with his claws just so they'd stop staring at him.

As they took off, she reluctantly pressed her face to his shoulder, "do you want him to be my first kill?" She asked, her voice wavering. She knew she was walking a thin line these days. At least _that_ was clear enough.

"Yes." He knew she wouldn't do it and at least it would get the teen to them with no effort on his part. This would almost make up for Max tonight. Speaking of which, no fucking way was he going to give in to this stupid new plan Max had without a fight.

* * *

"You seriously did that?" Michael snorted, kicking his sneakers off at the front door before trailing his mom into the kitchen. "Smooth move, Sam." He'd only been half listening when Lucy went off in the car about embarrassing her when she was trying to find a job, but he heard enough to know his little brother was in deep trouble. Right now, though, all Mike really cared about was that chick at the boardwalk...he didn't have a chance with her if she was into punks, but maybe he could at least try to look the part...she was really...really hot.

"I still don't know what you were thinking, Samuel Emerson, and I did _not_ appreciate it one bit. I'm lucky Max still wanted to talk to me after you begged him like that…" She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and busied herself filling a glass with water to calm her nerves.

"If someone hadn't taken my wallet I wouldn't have had to!" He exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest.

" _Had_ to? You _had_ to make me look like I don't know how to teach my son manners?" She threw an arm up incredulously, snatching her glass of water and taking a long gulp.

Michael edged out of the kitchen to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. "Good luck, Sammy," he smirked, giving his little brother a wave and charging for the stairs. Gramps was standing at the top shining a stuffed beaver's nose with his robe sleeve. Michael stopped mid-step, staring up at the old man with a mixture of surprise and confusion. No doubt about it. He was absolutely insane.

"You...gonna do something with that beaver, grandpa?" Taxidermist or not, it was seriously creepy how many dead things they had stuffed into just about every room and corner in the house.

"Comic shop?!" Lucy exclaimed loudly in the kitchen, "no, young man, I will _not_ drive you back to the boardwalk to find one tomorrow. You should have looked when you were there instead of following me around begging for money you know I don't have right now. You are grounded until you apologize!"

Michael cringed. He'd gotten out of there just in time. Sam probably would've pinned it on him for not keeping a closer watch or something, as if somehow he'd have kept him in line. "Grandpa?" Michael repeated, "the beaver?" Old man was still shining it.

"Gotta keep 'em in good condition, decoration makes a house a home." He replied, giving one final polish, "There."

He tried to smile, well...tried his best, anyway. Michael was pretty sure it looked about as genuine as it would if he'd just been told he was getting a root canal, "where...are you gonna put it?"

"Sam's room." He smirked at the young man, "Kid's gotta have a little more color in his room."

"...Good idea." He felt kinda bad for Sam, but there was no way Michael was going to take the bullet and volunteer his own room for grandpa's weird 'Grizzly Adams Feng Shui' experiments. Somehow he hadn't expected his first night in Santa Carla to be so...bizarre...but at least things could only get better from here. Maybe he'd pick up an odd job in the morning, scrape together some cash for a jacket. Leather.

Grandpa was silent for a moment before speaking, "Want to earn a couple bucks?" He asked after a moment of thought.

"Doing what?" God he hoped it wasn't scraping guts or something...or bleaching claws...Michael had absolutely no fucking clue what went into grandpa's job or hobby (or whatever it was), but he definitely didn't want to either.

"Need a couple of these beauties hidden around Sam's room." He patted the beaver, "10 bucks for ya if you scare him real good. Hopefully will help teach him a lesson."

"A lesson?" Michael frowned. This was his little brother, the kid he protected from bullies every summer back home at the public pool, his only brother, right now just about his only friend in the world too...how could grandpa honestly ask him to do something like that? For ten bucks? "Make it twenty."

"Deal." He held out the beaver, "Got a couple more in the shop."

Hey, if Sam ever got a girlfriend, he'd understand. Michael was more than happy to keep this a secret until that happened. No reason he had to know who hid the damn things. "Alright, I guess I'd better hurry before mom's done yelling at him."

 _Sorry, Sammy…_

* * *

Laddie was snuggled up to his teddy bear desperate to dream and escape, for at least a little while. As young as he was, daytime slumber didn't come in gentle waves like it did with Star. He was safe from the occasional moments of lucidity and dark thoughts. Paranoid fear. Misery.

She wished she'd never met David. Wished she hadn't been so stupid. When she'd first seen all of them, free as birds, and heard the stories...the Lost Boys...they never seemed to age. Always stayed the same. Never had to worry about getting old, losing their looks. Honestly, Star hadn't really believed it. She'd just thought she was having fun, playing a game. With fire, sure, but it burnt her long before she could pull her hand away. Now she was stuck, burning...craving something she couldn't let herself have…

Because there was a trade-off for living forever, playing by your own rules, being completely free...and now that Star really understood, she didn't want to pay the price.

What would happen if she ran? Would she be able to ignore her growing hunger forever?

It was the same thing every night, David was the first one up and out into the ruined lobby of the hotel. He ignored her, settling into his usual place in the tattered wheelchair. He rested his chin on his fist, looking out at the waning light from the safety of the shadows.

Star quietly slid one leg over the side of the mattress she was resting on, watching him intently through her moth-eaten canopy. Her shield.

There was a fluttering sound outside, some of Marko's pigeons being disturbed, before they took flight into the hotel lobby to roost in their hidden, darkened corners. Something or someone must have been outside.

"David…" Star whispered nervously, keeping her head bowed so she wouldn't have to look at his eyes. Frankly, they terrified her. _He_ terrified her.

He looked at her, his attention drawn away from the pigeons, "What, Star?" His words were clipped as he spoke, she was sure he was getting tired of waiting for something she would never do.

"Are we going out tonight?" Or would they leave her here, like they usually did? Forget about the boy from the boardwalk, let her go a few more days without killing...that would be nice…

"Yeah, you're gonna find that boy." He said firmly, "And you're gonna feed."

Her fingers curled into her glittering shawl, the very thought made her sick with fear. She didn't want to kill. She didn't want to be a monster. "But-"

"But what?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "Come on, let's hear it. Remember, you wanted this, you asked for this."

"I didn't ask to kill people," she whispered, pulling her shawl even tighter while her head remained tilted. "I didn't know I had to."

He let out a snort of derision, "Price we pay, did you think it would be all sunshine and puppies? Vegetarians? We're the top of the food chain, Star."

Tears were openly streaming down her face now, and she squeezed her eyes shut to try and stymie the flow, "but why can't you just stop before they're dead?"

"You've seen how we feed, right?" He asked incredulously, "Wounds like that can't really just close up, now can they? Besides, where's the fun in that? No witnesses."

"Did you do this sort of thing when you were human, too? Murder? Kill innocent people?" She didn't know why she said it, knew the minute the words came out of her mouth that it was a mistake, because this time there was little submissiveness in her tone, and instead an open note of anger. Defiance. She wouldn't kill that guy on the boardwalk tonight. Not now, not _ever_.

He chuckled softly, "Can't say that I ever killed anyone before, thought about it a thousand times, who doesn't? What? Did you think I was a mass murderer before I turned?"

"How else can you live like this?!" She opened her eyes, reaching up to wipe at her cheeks, sure her makeup must be blotched and smeared by now. She didn't have much left. Didn't even know why she bothered with it anymore, except it was the one thing that helped her feel normal. Distracted her from this place, and these things she lived with.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Things change, you'll understand." He sounded so sure of himself, "Gotta tell you, I may have refused to feed at first but you get over it once that blood hits your tongue." He licked his lips slowly.

With nothing else to say to him, Star laid back down and turned her back on David, shoving her face in her pillow as she tried to drown out the sound of the crashing waves outside, or the echoing laughter of the rest of them as they began to wake up.

"Get ready, we'll be leaving soon." He ordered as the others flew in, Paul and Marko shoving at each other, fighting about something.

Star didn't have it in her to fight with him, so instead she just snatched up a patchy towel beside her bed to scrub her face, erase the evidence of her tears, and hopefully find a way to avoid him for as long as she could once they got to the boardwalk. The same thing she did every night.

"Laddie, bring me my eyeliner," she mumbled, letting her shawl fall to the mattress.

* * *

 _Your new mother has another son. His name is Michael. Find him and bring the boys into the family. Don't forget to pick up my drycleaning._

 _Max_

David crumpled the paper in his fist, his lip curled into a snarl, another kid? What if he was worse than the blonde? He wasn't Max's errand boy, if he picked up dry cleaning it would be to toss it in the ocean.

"Good news?" Marko leaned close, propping an elbow up on David's shoulder with a shit-eating grin on his face.

He threw the ball at him, "Read it yourself."

He caught it with his free hand, just barely, and nearly fell in the process, "hm…" Marko uncrumpled the ball and quickly scanned the contents with an intense frown, as if he were reading a dissertation, before he passed it on to Paul, who preferred to tear it in half with his teeth instead.

"That's a shame," Marko sighed, "the drycleaners he uses...isn't that the place that burnt down?"

Star, who wasn't in on Max's relationship with them, only watched the boys with a confused expression while she kept her hands clasped safely over Laddie's chest.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is." Dwayne replied with a smirk, "And if it's not who's to say it won't."

"You can never tell with these things," Paul agreed sagely, which was quite a feat, coming from the rocker.

"Let's head out, boys." David mounted his bike, "The night ain't gettin' any younger."

Star reluctantly let Laddie leave her side to ride with Dwayne. Then, she took her accustomed place with David, trembling as she did so. Her thoughts...were predictably the same as they always were. If every group had a buzzkill, she was definitely theirs. He shut her thoughts out of his mind, choosing to focus on the ride, the feel of the wind against his face, in his hair, they'd have fun when they hit the boardwalk and found that teen. He'd just have to make sure Star found him. Shouldn't be too hard. The stricken look he'd had when she climbed onto the back of David's bike was evidence enough of that.

No concerts tonight. No tittering groupies or headbanging idiots or burn-outs with fake tickets pretending to be scalpers. Just the usual crowd, most of them smart enough to give the boys a wide berth while they parked their bikes. Still, there were a few drifters, vacationers hanging around Santa Carla for the summer before fall hit and they headed for greener pastures, warmer and less...dangerous. Plenty of opportunity tonight for a good time. The quick errand for Max hadn't taken them any time at all, and Dwayne even managed to get a nice meal out of it when he'd graciously offered to help the owner shut down early.

Surprisingly enough, finding the kid from the night before was easy, very easy, and he was looking to get his ear pierced if his thoughts were anything to go by. He nudged Star, "There he is." He pointed discreetly, "Go on, have some fun."

She quickly slipped away, feet light as air, and they took off to give her some distance. An illusion of privacy. Star worked remarkably fast, flirtatiously tossing her hair while she said something to the boy. It didn't really matter what, because soon he was tailing her like a lost puppy, "name's Michael," he told her when they were closer.

"Michael. Michael's great, I like Michael…" She smiled, and then they approached a bike parked not too far off. _Michael?_

"Want to get something to eat?" He hopped onto his bike.

"Okay," she smiled, stepping closer to him, and now it was their turn.

David sidled up on his bike, cutting them off, "Where're you headed, Star?" Michael? Could he be the one Max meant? Slowly he looked the teen up and down, not a local, so probably. Maybe he wouldn't give Michael Max's blood. If he did that he'd have zero influence over him and he saw how well that worked with Max and themselves. He wasn't their maker, after all, just the asshole who came to town and took over when theirs got ashed.

The flirtatious smile faded in David's presence, and she immediately paled, "for a ride. This is Michael."

"Let's go," Michael leaned over, offering his hand to her, eyeing David warily and just as intensely as David watched Star. He wasn't intimidated by them. Not in the least.

"Star." David's tone was warning as he narrowed his eyes at her. What was she playing at?

For a moment, it looked as if she was having second thoughts about leaving, and almost came to heel behind David...but then she was climbing onto Michael's bike, and the human smirked back at him with a shrug, kicking off and driving away.

Not even Paul knew what to say.

"Did she just do that?" Marko looked around, "did she really just do that?!" He was practically squawking.

Dwayne smoothed his hair back, looking thoughtful, " _I guess that means she's making her first kill tonight after all…"_

" _She won't and we have to make sure she doesn't."_ David shot back, " _How do you think Max will feel if his precious little boy washes up with the surf?"_

Paul outwardly laughed, " _scared 'daddy' will beat your ass?"_ He immediately regretted the remark with one look from David.

" _I want him. Gotta test him but can't let Max get his grubby little paws on him. My blood, my turn, and we won't have to deal with another Star."_ David revved his bike and took off into the darkness after them.

The others didn't have time to exchange funny looks, but they were all thinking the same thing. David was throwing a red flag down, and Max probably wasn't going to let this one go. Very rarely did they manage to push him too far, and it wasn't pretty when it happened. But their loyalty first was to David, so they simply followed him into the night.

* * *

"Sorry I couldn't spring for much, I really thought burgers would be cheaper here," Michael held out a red snowcone, smiling sheepishly at Star. It felt good to get the girl, especially when he thought he didn't have a chance after he got a real good look at blondie's bike. But it wasn't like he worked out for nothing...plenty of girls back in Phoenix liked him even before he had a ride. This one was different, though...wild. Special. Also, not wearing a bra, and that was a definite plus.

"So, uh," he looked down at his own treat, the ice twinkling under the stall's Christmas in July lights, "why are you with those guys, anyway?"

She bit her lip slightly, "I...There isn't much of a choice." Her eyes widened slightly when she realized what she said, "They don't hurt me or anything, I just have nowhere else to go."

He wasn't sure what to do with that. Michael was a little concerned now that he'd just picked up a prostitute, but he kept the thought to himself. She didn't seem like the type. "They're not making you stay with them, are they?" Shit...this was a little uncomfortable now.

She gave him a small smile, eating some of her snowcone, "I ran away from home and they took me in." She looked out at the night, toward the beach, "You should stay away from them, Michael, and me, you deserve someone better."

He relaxed a little, putting an arm around her shoulder, "so they're your friends, then...crazy protective, huh? I'm not worried." He could probably take them one-on-one individually if he had to, but Michael wasn't really looking to start any fights. "You want to take a walk on the beach, or is there somewhere else you'd like to go?" Michael only realized after he said it that he sounded like he was trying to get laid...hopefully she didn't take it the wrong way.

"The beach would be nice." She let herself lean into him a little.. She smelled nice. Kind of...there was an odd earthiness under the perfume, but...well, she _was_ a hippie, or her parents were, so it wasn't too bad.

"Cool," he grinned, leading her over the slats of the boardwalk edge where his bike was parked in the sand. It was pretty dark out, but he walked carefully. She didn't seem to have much trouble making her way, even with bare feet.

The wind quickly picked up around them, throwing sand into their snow cones and savagely tearing at their hair. Michael bit back a cuss word, throwing his sweet treat to the ground. So much for dinner. Just as suddenly as that, the wind died down all at once.

Star gripped at one of Michael's shoulders, so sharply he could almost swear she had claws, digging into the leather of his jacket. "Hey, easy, calm down," he flinched, trying to soothe her. Kind of hard when she couldn't seem to let go.

"I'm sorry, Michael, we can't do this," she apologized, finally pulling back and shaking her head back and forth.

"Do what? Star?" He held out a hand, only to find her backing away further onto the beach. Then she tore off, kicking up sand behind her as she went, almost too fast for him to believe. Michael looked down at his spilt snow cone, and then back up towards her fading silhouette. What the hell was that all about?

Bewildered, he walked back towards the snowcone stall, slumping down in a bench. Whatever it was that scared her off, the chick had issues. So here he was again, just like the night before. Alone in a city with no friends, no girl, no job, no money...nothing to do, and nowhere to go but home. Maybe he could sell the jacket back and at least have enough cash to get himself some dinner. Hell, maybe even buy Sam a comic. He felt pretty bad that morning anyway when his little brother woke him up screaming bloody murder after he found that stuffed family of squirrels hiding in his underwear drawer...

* * *

David watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Star ran from her 'date'. He glanced toward the others, " _Go make sure she doesn't get herself in trouble."_ He ordered before turning his attention to Michael. He strolled toward him, seeming to just be on a walk of his own, "Didn't expect to see you again so soon, Michael, wasn't it?" He questioned, startling the teen.

He jerked up, eyeing David warily, thoughts in a confused muddle over tonight's course of events. "Yeah." Michael paused, standing up and tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, "if you're looking for Star, she freaked out and ran off." He shrugged helplessly, clearly at a loss to even begin to understand what was wrong with the bohemian girl who'd reeled him in tonight only to cut the hook without warning.

"Nah, was out for a walk, up to her what she really wants." Obviously she wanted to be a meal rather than the predator, well, he could arrange that, "Care to join me? You're new in town, right?"

He looked thoughtful for a minute, then gave a slow nod, "yeah. Guess you've been here for awhile?" Michael glanced over David's shoulders towards the beach, seeing no signs of his bike or friends. "You walk all the way out here?"

"Been here a long time." He agreed with a nod, "Yeah, walked, sometimes I just like to enjoy the night." He looked out at the waves, "You have a bike." It was a statement, not a question, "Should come riding with us one night, can show you around, give you a lay of the land."

"Sure," Michael shrugged, "not much else to do around here until I find a job. Not too hot on the kiddy rides and junk jewelry shops they've got everywhere. Is Star going to be with you later?" He looked a little wary, halfway between wanting to know why she'd ditched him and relief he hadn't gotten mixed up with crazy.

He shrugged, "Do you want her to be?" He shot back with a question of his own.

"I don't know, man," he scratched at the back of his neck, "she's hot, and all...just a little weird. Acted like I was gonna hit her or something."

"Hey, you want her around, cool, all good, you don't and you don't have to be around her. Not gonna force something on you." David's voice was understanding, almost kind, it was the voice he used to reel people in and it worked.

"Hey," Michael held up his hands, "if she's your girlfriend, you don't have to worry about me."

"She's not, I just look out for her, more like a sister than anything else. I've got a soft spot for the lost ones."

"What, like, you run a shelter or something?" He gave David a quick once-over, his expression more than dubious at the idea.

He couldn't help but laugh, tossing his head back, "Fuck no, just tend to have the nasty habit of drawing those in need of help to me. More like a club, keep 'em out of trouble."

"No offense, uh...what's your name?" Michael queried, belatedly realizing he hadn't even bothered to ask.

"Shit, sorry, David." He held out his hand.

"Right, well...David...you kinda sound like a pimp. Are you?" He threw it out there awkwardly, already seeming to regret the question once he asked. "You know what, never mind, none of my business."

"No, not a pimp, gang leader? If you want to call us a gang I guess." He couldn't help but find that funny, him, a pimp. Well, he supposed he did take a cut of whatever they stole. If he was a pimp, he was pretty sure there'd be plenty of freaks out there willing to pay a couple bucks for Marko's happy ass. Not Paul, though...talked too much, "More like Fagin in Oliver Twist?" That was a better analogy.

"Ah, never read it...but I get what you're saying. Guess that make sense, not many places to get a job around here." Jacket or not, Michael wasn't a troublemaker. One look at his thoughts was evidence enough, and hard to imagine that tiny woman at the boardwalk Max was so hard up for would really raise a punk for a son. "I'd better be getting home. Nice meeting you, I guess."

"Michael." He said as he turned away, "Keep the jacket, it suits you." He smirked at him, "And if you want something to do tomorrow night come find me." He gave him a little salute before heading back down the beach.

Apparently Star had put up quite a fight, because by the time he found the boys, Paul was nursing a bleeding nose while Dwayne had her squirming and slung over his shoulders. Laddie stood nervously beside Marko, clearly pretty upset.

"She got you good, Paul." He chuckled softly, walking up to her and grasping her chin, forcing her to look at him, "Hello, Star."

She snapped her teeth at him angrily, wiping the blood from her cheek where Dwayne had probably scratched when he'd tried to restrain her. The longer she waited to kill, the crazier she'd get during a fight. "Let me go!" She demanded, trying to pry Dwayne's arm from around her waist.

"The bitch broke my nose!" Paul whined, even as the cartilage mended beneath his palm.

David growled softly, lips pulled back, eyes golden, and teeth bared, "Shut up, Star." He snapped his teeth, grasping the back of her neck and pinching hard, "Don't worry, I've taken care of poor, little, Michael."

She paled considerably, finally settling down enough with a heavy sob and settling limply over Dwayne's shoulder. " _Why?_ " She whispered, "you've already killed twice this week."

He let out a snort, " _Didn't say I killed him."_ He grinned at the boys as she cried. This was the most entertainment they'd gotten out of her in weeks, "Don't worry, Star, we'll find you another meal."

Marko hopped onto his bike, holding up his fingers, "Davey...what's this one...strike two? One more and…" He giddily drew his claws just for the effect of making her whimper, sliding one of them lightly across his neck and trailing a very thin line of bright red blood.

Dwayne threw her to the ground, stepping over Star's slumped form to make his way to his own bike just as Laddie took the cue and hopped on. The kid didn't do much, but at least he stayed out of their way.

"Get on, Star, we're going home." David ordered, straddling his own bike, "This is getting ridiculous. You don't want to feed, fine, you can starve to death but you're not doing it out here. Get on."

Shakily, the fight gone from her like a punctured balloon, Star climbed to her feet and stumbled through the sand towards him. She was already getting weaker, and pretty soon she'd end up solving their problem before they could do it for her. It was a miracle she even managed to clasp her arms around David's waist.

" _What's the plan?"_ Dwayne glanced over at David before kicking his bike into gear.

" _Need a way to test him."_ He replied, gunning his bike and taking off, " _Haven't thought of a good way to do that yet."_ He paused, " _Maybe should dump Star and Laddie off with Max, he can have his own little family right there at home."_

" _You sure Thorn won't just have a couple of new chew toys instead?"_ Paul cackled, any soft spot he might have had for her thoroughly tempered by the damage to his ego and face.

" _Probably but once we drop 'em off no longer my problem."_

" _Max is gonna be pissed,"_ Marko cringed. They hadn't had a 'lesson' from Santa Carla's resident head vampire in a _very_ long time, but there was always an off chance they could take it too far. He'd probably be too busy focused on middle aged Lucy and her sons to do anything, though. The old fuck had an insanely unbalanced one-track mind.

" _Fuck Max, all I have to tell him is that if he wants Lucy and her kids he'll take Star and Laddie, if not I'll make sure he gets nothing."_ David was getting brazen and he knew it but now was the time to push because Max had something on the line for once. Star's stupid little stunt tonight was the final straw. She was going to put _them_ at risk too if they didn't do something.

If Star and Laddie noticed they were going in a different direction from the hotel they didn't mention it. Max would still be out at the video store, he didn't tend to come back until near dawn so now was the perfect time to dump them off. They pulled up outside the gate and David looked back at Star.

"Get off, you too Laddie, you're staying here with your _sire_." He bit out, "I've had enough."

"Wh...but I thought _you_ -" Star whispered shakily, the new revelation that she might not have had David's blood a little too much for her to handle in one night with everything else that had happened.

He let out a snort of derision, "No, you're not _mine_. You're his, now get off."

Dwayne helped Laddie to the ground, giving the kid a two-fingered salute with a tap of his head, "seeya, shrimp." You'd almost think he had a soft spot for the little brat and his babysitting job, but Dwayne had a tendency to get attached to any sort of hobby for very short periods of time. Last time it was scrapbooking.

Star slipped off of the back of David's bike, taking Laddie's hand in hers, "I'm sorry…" she whispered, tilting her head down, "please don't leave us." With them around, she had someone to blame for her problems, without them...the hunger would probably get a hell of a lot worse.

He shook his head, "You don't want to feed, you don't want to be part of our pack, so you're Max's problem now." He got off his bike, "Here, I'll even let you in." He pushed the gate open, knowing Thorn wouldn't bother him. The dog eyed them, taking them in, but doing nothing as David opened the door and motioned them inside, "He's probably got a couple bottles in the fridge, you can eat something and then when he gets back feel free to explain this whole thing to him."

For Star and Laddie, maybe the devil they knew was better than the one they didn't, but really...David was past caring anymore. He had better things to worry about.

"I want a dog," Marko sighed, sliding off his bike. "A big fluffy one...with a kickass set of chompers…" He always got like this when he was around the hellhound. "Wouldn't have to worry about burning leftovers anymore."

Dwayne rolled his eyes, "We can't have a dog, idiot, you would never take it out."

He huffed, "we don't have a _door!_ Not like he couldn't go out when he wanted…"

Paul wrinkled his nose, "I don't want a dog shitting on my stash, it's bad enough with the fucking pigeons."

David came back out the door the moment he had them safely inside, "Let's get home boys before Max shows up." He gave Thorn a pat on the head before closing the gate, "I don't want to be here when he gets back." He hopped back on his bike. One problem dealt with. It was going to be a great week.

* * *

Final day of the dreaded grounding, final stupid rat found under his bed (on a stack of his comics!) Sam couldn't believe his luck. From Phoenix to weirdsville, with Texas Chainsaw Grandpa downstairs probably working on his next trick to scare the crap out of him.

"Mike!" Sam shouted, digging through one of the pockets in an old coat hanging in his closet, "Mike, can you pick up a comic for me later? I think I saw a place before mom chewed me out!"

Michael poked his head into the room, "can't you just get it tomorrow? I thought you were broke." He was drenched with sweat, having just finished mowing the front lawn to get a few bucks of his own. Seemed like his brother was just burning through his cash now...and he still wouldn't lend Sam a measly dollar! Only one!

"Well, if _someone_ would help me find my wallet it wouldn't be a problem!"

Michael rolled his eyes, "you want lunch? I'm gonna go make a sandwich." He didn't wait for an answer before he was gone. There had to be more to his mowing the lawn than just the money, he was way too focused. Kinda like when he got dumped last fall.

Sam went after him, still whining, "Yeah, make me a sandwich." He grumbled, "Least you can do since you won't give me a dollar."

"You could try mowing the backyard, too, if you really want money that bad, Sam." Michael yanked open the fridge door and began to gather ingredients for a pile-up of meat, cheese, odds and ends. "Or maybe when mom lets you leave the house, sell a few of the comics you don't read anymore."

Michael turned back and grinned at him, winking, "or you could help gramps with a few projects, huh? Take up the family business?" Speaking of the old fart, grandpa shuffled into the kitchen to grab a root beer.

"Keeping out of trouble, eh?" He ruffled Sam's hair and twisted the lid off his frosty drink.

Sam crinkled up his nose, no way would he _ever_ go into taxidermy, it was just...creepy.

"Sam, I'll make a deal with you," Michael began spreading mustard on a slice of bread, "wash my bike, make a brush pile, and do some laundry...maybe I'll be able to convince mom to let you off tonight, and I'll even drop you off at a comic shop if we find one."

He scowled, "A brush pile?"

"Yeah, bunch of dead branches at the side of the house," Michael shrugged, quickly slapping Sam's meal together and holding out the plate to him. "Deal or not?"

The old man took Sam's plate before he could get his hand on it, "sounds like a good one to me," he grunted, lumbering out of the kitchen.

"Fine, fine, I'll do it." He grumbled, "I want my sandwich first."

Michael snorted, slathering another slice of bread, "yeah, I got you covered. Gotta look after my little bro, huh?" This was turning into a real Brady Bunch moment. Michael rolled his eyes when Sam started to gag and point a finger towards his mouth, "grow up, Sam."

* * *

When he'd parked his bike, towing his little brother with a headlock down the boardwalk, Michael couldn't help but laugh, "what's wrong? Can't break it?" It wasn't dark yet, so none of the ride lights had been switched on. There'd be plenty of time for him to drop him off and maybe Sam could get a ride home with mom after she got off work later.

Sam squirmed, pushing at his arms, "Le'me go!" He punched at his side, "Stop being mean!"

"Or what?" Michael asked, though he did loosen his grip a little, "gonna beat my ass, dork?"

"I'm gonna tell mom you were mean and she'll ground you, how about that, butt-face?"

He released his hold on Sam and stepped back with his hands up, "alright, alright. I get it. Don't cry, Sammy."

"Asshole." He grumbled, rubbing his neck.

"Listen, I'm gonna go see if I can find someone, but you want me to grab you a burger?" Michael tucked his hands into his pockets, trailing behind Sam and scanning the crowd. Not a lot of people, but Santa Carla seemed more like a nightlife kinda place anyway.

He nodded, still rubbing his neck, "Yeah, I'm hungry, could use a burger."

"Cool," he nodded, giving Sam a funny look. "Did I actually hurt you?"

"Come on, it hurts! You grip too tight."

He could've stuck around for an awkward apology, but just then, something caught his attention. A glittering earring. Michael gave Sam a quick noogy and dodged off through the boardwalk. There probably weren't many comic shops around, so he shouldn't have to worry too much about finding him later. He ignored Sam's indignant squawks about burgers. Apparently fries, too. How much money did he think gramps actually paid for that yard work?

Turned out whoever was wearing that earing was just another face in the crowd. By the time he caught up to them, Michael realized he didn't really know where he was anymore, and he hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings. Conch shops and surf board 'palaces' stretched as far across the decks as he could see in one direction, while sand stretched behind him in another.

About half an hour later of wondering, and the first light flipped on at one of the shop fronts. Then the ferris wheel and roller coaster lit up...and one-by-one like stationary fireflies, or stars, the boardwalk was glowing. He scowled, wondering if maybe now would be a good time to grab that burger for Sam, and then an odd laughter seemed to float about him, separate from the chatter of the crowd. It disappeared just as quickly.

Then some dickhead with a cotton candy mohawk came swinging at him out of nowhere. He'd like to think he had the reflexes to avoid it, but since there were no eyes in the back of his head, Michael took a pretty rough knock to the ground.

"What the hell?!" He exclaimed, rolling over onto his back and glaring up at the asshole laughing at him. At least he had the sense to roll away before the pointed boot came hurtling towards his ribcage. Michael recovered enough to stumble to his feet and head butt the jerk in the stomach. He shoved him back, giving him a few punches in the side for good measure before he managed to straighten back up and raise his fists.

The guy raised his fists in return, "Come on, wuss, bring it!"

"What's your problem, man?!" Michael spat, jumping back and really just barely managing to avoid a black eye by sheer luck. Fights were never as smooth or one-sided as movies made them look, and assholes always fought dirty. So...why shouldn't he? Michael gave a silent prayer of apology for what he was about to do, but he really didn't want a medical bill tonight if the fight went south...the fight he hadn't even been responsible for...and he threw all his strength into a good, solid kick to the guy's balls, swinging forward to knock him in the jaw with a right hook.

Cotton candy Goliath took a fall, and was too busy sobbing to get back up.

...The fuck was that all about? Michael looked up at the small circle that had formed around them, cringing. If this got back to mom, she'd probably have a freak attack. He almost managed to wash his hands of the whole thing and get away, but apparently one dick-head picking a fight was an invitation for another, because now there was another one breaking through the circle, and this one didn't even _have_ any hair. Just a bizarre nose ring.

Still aching from the yard work he'd spent the day laboring over, Michael was _not_ ready for the next one, "what is _wrong_ with you people?!" He cussed, just when another fist came flying.

He got lucky, could have sworn it was going to connect, but the next thing he knew the guy was laid out flat and David was standing over the fallen man, hands clenched into fists, "Asshole." He gave him a swift kick to the side for good measure.

"Jesus Christ…" Michael exclaimed, running his hands through his hair and pressing them against his forehead, not noticing David's slight flinch at those words. "Do...do you know what that was about?!"

"Gang initiation I assume." He replied, "Glad I came this way. Think a couple more were gonna go after you next." A quick look from him, and the circle that had formed around them quickly dissipated. Suddenly, apparently the fighting wasn't nearly as interesting to the nervous-looking fair goers.

"They could've killed me," Michael said aloud, stunned. If there were that many more coming...there's no way they wouldn't have been aiming for just that. No wonder Santa Carla was the murder capital of the world. "Thanks, David, I owe you one," he held out a hand, wiping sweat out of his eyes with the other and panting softly. He'd have to be more careful next time he came out to the boardwalk on his own.

He took his hand, his grip firm, "Nah, I've got your back." He grinned, patting him on the back.

"Where're your f-" Michael glanced around, the words dying on his lips when he spotted them, all three of them leaning against the side of a shop brazenly passing a joint around as if they were invisible to the world and immune to any kind of law. Not that he thought any cops out here really cared much. "Never mind. Listen, I've got to go grab my brother a burger real quick."

"I'll join you, there's a great little known burger place nearby." He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, "Little hole in the wall place."

"That works," he shrugged. Sam wasn't picky as long as they had mustard...not like he should be anyway. It was Michael's money. He followed David over to the shop where the others were gathered, nodding at them and shrugging off the joint when the guy with the wild blonde hair offered it.

"No thanks," he shook his head. "Later, maybe." Last thing he needed when he went home later was explaining _that_ smell to mom.

"Suit yourself," the blonde shrugged, greedily stuffing it back into his mouth before the smaller blonde at his side could grab it.

David shook his head, "Michael, these are Dwayne, Marko, and Paul." He introduced each in kind. They had funny looks, like they were sharing some kind of personal joke. Probably the pot. He nodded to them in greeting, his hands firmly tucked into his pockets. For a gang, they seemed alright. At least they hadn't tried to corner him in a fight for no good reason. Didn't look like Star was with them...he hoped she was okay. Hadn't gotten herself hurt when she ran off last night.

David pulled out a small flask as he lead the way, taking a drink before holding it out to Michael, "You deserve it after that fight." He prompted, licking his lips. He had an oddly intense look Michael couldn't quite place. Probably just wound up after the fight.

Reaching out to take the flask with one raised eyebrow, Michael glanced at the others behind him. Funny. They looked exactly the same. "What's in it?" He sniffed the contents. Cloves. Spice. Probably something sweet.

"Spiced wine." David replied, "Ambrosia, nectar of the gods." He smiled, "It's good."

Couldn't hurt, could it? Michael tossed back a swig, feeling the warmth all the way down until it pooled in his stomach. _Holy shit._ "Wow," he remarked quietly, unable to resist closing his eyes and savouring the taste.

"I've got more back home, have as much as you want." David smirked, patting him lightly on the back.

There was a faint, not unpleasant rushing sound in his ears, "thanks," Michael licked his lips, greedily drinking the rest. Couldn't get enough of it. He opened his eyes, offering the empty flask back to David, completely oblivious to the wild energy or delight in his or the others eyes. "Never had wine like _that_ before," he remarked with a slightly intoxicated smile. No joke. Didn't even _taste_ like wine. What was he supposed to do again? Something important…

David grinned, "I'm sure you'll get plenty more of it too. Come on, let's go get baby brother that burger then we can go have some fun." He tucked the flask back in his coat pocket.

"Right," he shook his head, "yeah. Burger."

Somehow it was a lot faster to actually find his bike than it had been to get lost on the boardwalk earlier, and theirs were parked around his as if they'd all come there together tonight. It was comforting in a way. To be accepted in a new place, to have...friends. He had been worried about fitting in, about finding his niche, it looked like it had found him instead.

Michael quickly hopped onto his bike. Already tonight was looking better than last night. Too bad about Star, but he was already over it now. "Which way?" He looked towards David, parked just a little further ahead of him.

"Was thinking about a nice, fast, ride to get the blood pumping." He grinned, "I'll show you where we call home."

Sounded fun, but…"I can't beat your bike."

"You don't have to, you just have to keep up." It was a challenge, that much was readily apparent. Well, Michael was never one to back down.

They didn't even give him a chance to respond before they kicked off. Bewildered, he followed. His ride felt smoother than ever. Fast. That wine left him feeling like he was cruising on air. David let out a howl ahead of him as they flew through the night. Then, like a pack of wolves, the others followed suit. It was eerie, the way the fog seemed to almost entirely consume them, save for their darkened silhouettes, or an occasional bit of brushwood he'd just narrowly avoid swerving into.

Maybe it was false courage from the wine playing games with his head, and there was no way in hell he thought it was just wine now, but he didn't think he'd ever pushed himself this hard before, or ridden this fast. By now they'd probably passed that burger joint ages ago. He squinted in the dark and fog, blinked a few times as he leaned forward. Funny. It seemed like everything looked a lot sharper now.

The fog dissipated just as quickly as it appeared, when they drew up alongside a large gate generously decorated with warning signs and the occasional pair of worn-out sneakers tied to a link, or even a weather-beaten bra slung over the top in memory of whatever horny couple might have been there to mark their date in summers passed.

They parked their bikes, and one-by-one trailed towards a large expanse of rickety wooden-steps winding up through towards a cave, or something else, dizzily Michael wondered if maybe it was the mouth of hell itself. Maybe he'd had enough to drink tonight.

"Coming, Mikey?" Marko slapped him on the back, the last of the boys to skip towards the stairs. David was already at the top, staring down at him. A spiky-haired shepherd in black overlooking his field of sand and rock.

For a fleeting moment, Michael had the odd feeling that maybe...just _maybe_ going up there wasn't such a smart idea. Still, he'd come this far, hadn't he? Besides, if he was really worried about these guys, he shouldn't have followed them in the first place, or just taken David at his word and threw back that funny wine like it was water. He shrugged, and skipped up after them, taking the steps two at a time to avoid the less...stable-looking ones. Really, there were a few that looked like they could crumble into dirt any second.

The moment they were inside Marko and Paul ran off, lighting a couple barrels to fully illuminate the room they now found themselves in. David spread his arms wide, showing off what could have been either the entrance to a mansion or a hotel lobby.

"Welcome, to _the_ hottest hotel in Santa Carla." David grinned at him, "Well, at least it was back about 85 years ago. Built on a fault line, and when the big one hit...took a header right through the crack. It's home sweet home now." He moved further in, settling into a wheelchair and rocking back and forth slightly.

With all the rusted souvenirs of days gone by, the bedframes piled on top of old scraps, torn paintings lining tucked-away corners with little left but shreds of fabric and staring eyes, and oil drums glowing bright as Dwayne ceremoniously dropped flaming branches into each and every one to illuminate the dark...Michael really didn't have much trouble believing the story.

Paul crouched beside David inspecting an old boombox propped up beside a trunk, and god only knew whether there was anything in it, while Marko and Dwayne took their seats on a beat-up couch. Michael glanced around, settling on a dried-out water fountain, packed with beach shop trinkets and a shattered chandelier. His eyes roamed over towards a large poster of Jim Morrison staring back at them all from his perch at the back of the lobby.

"I guess it's cozy," he finally remarked, not really sure what to say. He wouldn't mention that funky smell. Must. Dust. Salt. Maybe even death...he didn't doubt there were a thousand rat carcasses hidden in the wreckage they couldn't get to. It wasn't the Ritz.

"It isn't much, been fixing up bits and pieces over the years, you should have seen it when we started." The boys all laughed as if they were in on some kind of joke, "It was much, much worse." He paused, "It's home though, have a couple rooms in the back fixed up."

 _In the back?_ Michael looked around, noting a few spider cracks along the walls here and there, and maybe an opening you could fit through if you crawled...even a place near the ceiling you could probably even climb through, but the idea that beyond there was anything but dirt and collapsed pits was pretty hard to believe. "You guys must be pretty handy," he said slowly, wondering if maybe they were just fucking with him right now. Probably.

"We'll have to show you some time but tonight, tonight is for relaxing, enjoying some wine." As he spoke he motioned to Marko, "Go grab us a bottle." He ordered.

Marko grinned, hopping to his feet readily enough and skipping off. Michael ran a hand through his hair, relaxing a little more just as Paul gave a loud cackle and slipped a tape into the boom box. Screeching hair metal bounced on the lobby walls, completely at home in their wild setting. He could get used to this.

Now that the adrenaline rush from the ride was fading, it was a lot easier to reclaim the buzz from the wine he'd had earlier, and he was actively craving even more. Fuck it, there was plenty of summer left, plenty of time to have a little fun and party. Forget about the move, the divorce, everything he'd left behind in Phoenix, his douchebag of a father and the money problems they'd had to dive headfirst into when mom settled for nothing but her car, the clothes on her back, and her two sons. He'd find a job tomorrow.

Marko made record time, the metal on his jacket and pants hailing his arrival with their echoing song melding into Paul's screaming stereo. David took the bottle, taking a deep drink before beginning to pass it around.

"Hey, Mikey, wanna get your ear pierced?" Marko asked with a grin, offering him the bottle.

He'd been thinking about it when he first saw Star, thought it'd get her attention...Michael took the bottle, throwing back a quick swig without even thinking. Seemed like the candles and oil barrel fires were so much brighter now. He closed his eyes, partially to shield himself from the light, and partially to help him savor the wine. "Yeah…sure..." he finally replied, only half-aware of what the question had been.

"We can do it for ya, who do you want to jab it in?" Marko prompted, watching him take another drink.

Paul nearly tripped over himself, hopping up to sling an arm around Marko, "I'll do it," he volunteered, snickering as he held his hand up. Michael frowned at him, rubbing his eyes a few times. He could swear...just for a second...Paul had claws...but he didn't.

"Uh...I guess whoever," Michael replied, quickly adding, "but not Paul." The guy looked like he'd probably rip his whole fucking ear off, as psycho as his grin was right now.

David stood, "I'll do it." He thumped Paul on the back of the head as he went by. Paul laughed, stumbling to the side and pretending to cower, hooking his arm still stubbornly around Marko's shoulder to drag him away.

Michael took one more quick slug of wine, setting the bottle down beside him on the lip of the fountain. When he looked back up at David, it was a little harder to focus. The candle light had gotten even brighter...and his teeth...were they always that sharp? He squinted, debating whether or not to ease back on the drinking.

"Grandma, what big teeth you have," Michael remarked dryly, as stupid as the joke sounded once he'd said it.

David chuckled softly, sitting beside him and pulling his head down to his lap, bearing his ear, "Close your eyes and relax." His voice was soothing, almost hypnotic in its cadence. Like the wine itself, Michael felt himself sinking into the wave of calm David's voice seemed to evoke. Not for a second did any of this seem weird. Maybe he was too far gone to tell. The earring didn't even hurt as it slid in, "Done."

He sat up slowly, careful not to make the blood rush to his head, "that's it?" His hand flew to his ear of its own accord, fingers wrapping around the cold piece of metal embedded there, one solitary drop of warm blood slipping through and wetting his skin. For one weird, impulsive moment, he was almost tempted to bring it to his lips, but he caught himself just in time and wrinkled his nose in self-disgust, wiping his hand off on the stone fountain lip just as the bottle was pushed back into his other. He could easily get hooked on this stuff.

"Party all night," Dwayne remarked, and vaguely Michael heard the metal snapping and fizzing sound of a beer can being cracked open.

He thought Paul was just talking shit when he added on with a cackle, "live forever, Mikey."

* * *

Paul and his fat mouth. This was a long con, they couldn't let Michael know what was happening just yet. He had the aforementioned man slung over his shoulder, carrying him back to his house to sleep off his first dose of David's blood. Good thing Max left another stupid little note tonight for them with the Emerson's address, among a few other pointless details David hadn't bothered to read more than once...and of course a warning about the drycleaning 'accident'.

These first few nights would be the worst and they had to make sure it went as smoothly as possible.

" _What the fuck were you thinking?!"_ David hissed, shifting the unconscious teen on his shoulder.

" _He's not gonna remember much, I was just having a little fun,"_ Paul defended, trying to get a grin of agreement from Marko, and looking over to find he was on his own on this one. Marko was too busy examining his nails far more closely than he needed to, and Dwayne was the lucky one who got to ride Michael's bike home.

" _We can't risk fucking this up, he can't know what's going on. Do you want one of those little fucktards who_ know _we exist to find out?"_ He growled softly, moving up to the window, " _Marko, get the window, and don't break it."_

" _The dorks with the Rambo hard-ons? They couldn't stake a ken doll if you shoved it up their asses."_ Paul snorted, not offering to help when Marko latched onto Michael's windows and scrambled to get his claws gently under the edge of the sill without breaking the glass or his nails.

" _They're incompetent idiots but even the stupid can get lucky. Now get over there and help instead of floating there like a half-wit."_

" _Why don't we just leave him on the lawn?"_ Paul bitched, sidling up beside Marko to gingerly pull at the window. Lucky for them it wasn't locked. " _How do we even know this is the right room?_ "

Marko peered in through the glass, " _I think we're lucky...doubt the other one has a weight set…"_

David froze as Michael stirred slightly, " _Fuck, hurry up."_ He hissed, running his fingers through Michael's hair, urging him back to sleep. He got lucky. Then again, they'd made sure he went through the whole bottle back at the hotel to keep him out for a good few hours.

The window flew up with a loud ' **CRASH!** '

The glass, somehow, remained intact…

"Oops…" Marko whispered, crawling through the opening and managing to knock over a bunch of shit on the desk in front of it, including a trophy that thunked on the ground loud enough to wake the whole house. "Sorry!" He exclaimed, trying to recover and scoop everything back up.

Paul was next, and true to form, made an even bigger mess than Marko. Across the hall, they heard barking. "FUCK, THEY'VE GOT A DOG!" Marko slapped a hand over Paul's mouth.

David moved quickly, somehow managing to get Michael onto the bed without waking him up while Marko and Paul scrambled to fix the things they'd knocked over.

" _Let's go, he'll think he knocked it over while he was drunk."_ David hissed.

"Mike?" There was a gentle knock at the bedroom door, and fuck they were lucky it was closed. If David had to do something about the brat, Michael probably wouldn't be too hot on joining them.

Marko scrambled to try and help David get the halfling through the window, knocking over yet another piece of junk. This time it was a phone, the dial tone obnoxiously blaring as it hit the ground.

By some miracle, they actually managed to toss Michael onto his bed and Paul was just barely getting his foot through the window and dodging to the side of the house when Sam pushed open the bedroom door to catch sight of his brother sprawled on the mattress.

"Jeeze, Mike," he yawned, leaning down to stroke his dog's head and simultaneously keep the thing from tearing into the bedroom, likely intent on jumping through the window. A husky. "You're gonna get it in the morning when I tell mom about this…" he shook his head, closing the door behind him.

" _Paul, you're grounded."_ David stated firmly, glaring at him.

" _What did I do?"_ Paul asked with a legitimately confused expression, even as he reached out to quickly shut the open window before Michael somehow woke up to notice it. " _...and I'm over 80, you can't ground me!"_

The sound of a revving engine caught their attention below as Dwayne pulled up alongside the house, leaving the bike parked close to the front porch.

" _You know why, don't make me explain it to you_ again." He slid down to the ground, " _Let's go, now."_

Without another word, Paul joined him, Marko silently on his heels to avoid any kind of punishment of his own. He wasn't quite as bad, at least he knew when not to push David's buttons. This whole thing tonight was a first for all of them. Since they'd been turned at about the same time, they really didn't know much or remember exactly how to guide another member into their fold. Star and Laddie didn't really count, either, especially since their blood came from Max. Nor, really, did any of the others their 'master' seemed to be inclined to try to induct. All long gone. All failed experiments.

Dwayne eyed them all once they'd landed, crossing his arms, "David, you need to feed." He'd given a lot of his blood tonight, and they all knew it. That probably accounted for his waning patience with Paul's antics, too.

David growled softly, "Fine, watch Paul, the asshole is grounded." He bit out before moving toward town, "I'm going to find dinner."

"What does that even mean?!" Paul shouted after him, while Dwayne just rolled his eyes and cuffed him in the back of the head.

There wasn't a lot of time before sunrise, so David didn't have much time to be picky either. Not if he didn't want to get fried. He'd had a few run-ins with late nights and early mornings before, so he knew pretty damn well what a bitch even a 2 second suntan could be. The longest he'd seen anyone last was about 5, when Max's last attempt at expanding the family failed miserably. Twenty years, and sometimes David could still smell the burnt hair at the lobby door. What kind of idiot thought it was a good idea to watch the sunrise within the same damn hour he'd made his first kill?

He shook his head, he needed to get this done. Luckily there was a drifter under the pier, easy pickings and close enough that he could manage to get home before sunrise. His meal was bittersweet, he would much rather be dealing with Michael than eating some no name loser under a bridge. He was excited, tempted to speed things along with his first fledgling. It probably wouldn't be too hard to give him a push if he tried. He'd seen Michael fight. Hell, he'd been the one who'd put those punks into a trance to start the fight in the first place. It wouldn't take much to force his hand but that would drive him away and he refused to take the easy route. He wanted his loyalty and the only way to get that would be to make this last and build things up, show him the reality of the world, of what he was now. What he could be. What he _would_ be.

The sea foam turned pink as the shore rose to claim the remains of his meal. Just another body. Just another number to add to Santa Carla's record.

* * *

Boys will be boys. A mantra Max had forced himself to patiently repeat to himself every night his children decided to misbehave. Some day they'd learn to act, sooner than later now that he'd found them a mother. His plans to ask Lucy to dinner tonight, though, were ruined. How could he leave the children in his house alone, after all, when they still hadn't had their first proper meal yet?

"Now, dinner's in the basement, I expect both of you to eat while I'm gone. I won't be long, just have a few things I need to take care of." He wasn't especially fond of leaving Thorn alone with anyone but himself, given the hellhound's fierce and sometimes misguided loyalty, but it would be for the best.

Star kept Laddie tucked close to her on the pristine white couch, the one he hoped they didn't drink on, watching him with her big, fearful eyes. Bullied mercilessly by her brothers, no doubt.

"Thorn will be here, you'll be perfectly safe. I will be sure to have a stern talking to with your brothers."

She lowered her head with trembling lips, "they're not our brothers. You're not our father." Teenage rebellion could be so very tiring. This sort of backtalk would not be tolerated. He'd already let the boys go too far with their own behavior. There were going to be some changes _soon,_ and he'd start with making an example of David.

He froze for a moment, "Star, I know this must be difficult for you _but_ that is no excuse for disrespect."

She remained quiet, turning her head to the side as if to end the conversation before it could even begin, on her own terms. Laddie simply watched him, staring with a sort of expectant tension belying his age. He would be very good at hunting. Shouldn't have any trouble at all luring meals in to share with his mother. Lucy would be far too soft in the beginning to do her own hunting, and she'd need Laddie as a distraction. Then, of course, Sam was young enough too to be a good companion for the little boy.

He quickly buttoned his sleeve cuffs, examining nothing in particular in his living room mirror as he did so. Even a century or more having passed since he'd turned, it was still a force of habit when he dressed. No time to leave a note tonight, he'd have to make their visit personal after he closed the store. The boys were usually back by then, anyway. Then he could see how they were doing on their little task of inducting Lucy's sons. Disrespectful or not, Max knew David was a clever boy. He'd likely already be well on the way to befriending them by now. Perhaps he'd have bought a few comics for Samuel, or the boys had even played a game of baseball with Michael. Lucy said Michael liked baseball…

Maybe he should talk to David before he went into the store. Lucy would be fine on her own for an hour or so.


	2. The Blood

There were hangovers...and then there were divine punishments on such massive scales that men and women alike were forced to vow never to drink, or move, or think, or do anything again if it could just make the pain stop for a few minutes. Lucky Michael was unfortunately dealing with just that right about the fifth time Lucy had come into his room to wake him up, and decided enough was enough.

"I'm about to go to work, honey, and you've been in bed all day," she sighed, "are you feeling okay?"

He slung his pillow over his face and groaned, his response muffled and incoherent. Even he wasn't exactly sure what he'd said. The only time he'd even bothered to get up that day was to change his clothes and shove Nanook out of his room when the damn dog wouldn't stop licking his feet.

"You shouldn't have left your brother, I thought you were going to watch out for him last night." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He lowered his pillow just enough to look at her, "I got lost. He was gone when I tried to find him." It was a lie...a bad one. Mostly. He _had_ gotten lost for about five minutes. "He's old enough to look after himself." Shit. Bad move. She was giving him the mom look now. Too late to cover his face with a pillow and pretend he didn't see it.

"Please, Michael, he's been...difficult, I don't need it from you too." She begged, she looked so disappointed in him and that hurt more than her being angry.

"Fine, fine…" He rolled over onto his side, facing her, "sorry. I'll watch him tonight, okay?" He didn't want to, god knew he didn't...felt like the walls of this house were already closing in on him right after he said it, but too late to back out now.

She nodded, giving him a small smile, "Thank you."

"Any time, mom," he closed his eyes for just a second. Somehow when he opened them, though, his room was dark...and mom was gone. So was the hangover. He threw himself out of bed, starving, and rushed downstairs to the kitchen. "Sam?" He called out when he'd gotten to the fridge.

He could hear music from the bathroom and horribly off key singing, that could only mean one thing: bath time. So he'd probably be going to bed soon, too...wouldn't notice if Michael just slipped out the backdoor and came back later. He'd promised mom, though…

"Shit," Michael cursed under his breath. Maybe grandpa could look after Sam...speak of the devil, the old man was striding into the kitchen humming to himself and dressed in what Michael could only assume was his best outfit. Not saying much.

"Going somewhere, grandpa?" He raised an eyebrow, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk.

"Going to go visit the widow Johnson." He smiled widely, "Need to make a special delivery."

He smirked, "what'd you stuff for her...Mister Johnson?"

His smile fell and he refused to say anything else as he walked out the door.

Michael blinked several times. Had he really just said that? He drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter thoughtfully. Sam was still screeching upstairs, somehow getting so off key he was discovering pitches never before heard by the human ear. He flinched, rubbing his temples. He had to get out of here. Just for a bit. It wasn't that late, he'd be back before mom. Hopefully. He wasn't usually like this, didn't know why he felt like he _needed_ to get out of the house...but tomorrow he'd stay home. Make up for breaking his promise to mom, and for ditching Sam the night before.

* * *

David leaned back in his wheelchair, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Max, one eyebrow raised, as the elder vampire walked into his abode. Max never came here, maybe dumping Star and Laddie had been a bad idea.

"Boys," Max greeted them stoically, though he kept his eyes trained on the blonde, "I'd like a word, _David._ " A casual dismissal of the others without so much as a wave. Given the power boiling beneath the surface of his nerdy facade, even as stupid as he was, they'd be even dumber to defy him right now. They weren't quite ready to take on Max just yet.

Dark looks passed amongst them, but at a nod from David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul drifted out of the hotel quietly to leave the two alone.

"I lost two of my best suits thanks to you," Max narrowed his eyes, removing his glasses to polish them with a handkerchief he tore from his jacket pocket. "That's not why I'm here, though. Explain yourself and make it good. I've got two halflings in my house right now, and thanks to you I had to change my plans with your mother to spend the evening at work with her instead of sharing a pleasant supper as she deserves." It was no longer in the future tense, or an idea, as far as Max was concerned now.

"I have no idea what you're talking about with regards to the suits and as for Star and Laddie, they were more trouble than they were worth, especially with regards to Michael. You do want him turned, don't you?"

Max examined his glasses, tucking his handkerchief back in his pocket, "I don't see your concern, the two situations are completely unrelated. I also know your calling card, David, or do you know other arsonists in Santa Carla who leave beheaded humans at their crime scenes?"

"She was going to blow the whole thing, tell Michael to stay away, in fact, she did, but I managed to rectify the situation, once." He leaned back, waving his hand, "As for the arson, well, maybe Paul had something to do with it."

His face softened a little, "so you're making progress at least. Good. What about Samuel?" He replaced his glasses on his nose, though he didn't need them. They just completed the look he aimed for, the misguided combination of car salesman and clown.

"Haven't had a chance to deal with him yet, figured I'd get Michael first then the other."

"I don't feel any connection to him," Max sighed, "so you haven't given him the blood yet." It was a statement, not an inquiry. Speaking of Michael, he should have been here by now. If it weren't for Max, David would have already gone to find the boy himself. Yet another reason to be irritated at the head vampire.

"I _would_ have had it taken care of tonight. Can't rush these things, want it done right, don't you?"

"I've never known you to practice any form of patience," Max sighed, "but it's nice to know you're finally gaining some level of maturity. Very well. I want it done soon, though. If it isn't dealt with, I'll take care of Samuel and Michael myself." He looked about the hotel with a disgusted sneer, "and do learn to clean up after yourself. It smells like a whorehouse in here." That being said, he spun on his heels and began to walk away, pausing only once at the exit to glance back at David, his vampiric form in full view, "don't defy me, David. Not on this. You will live to regret it." Then he was gone.

David snarled the moment he was gone, throwing a leftover beer bottle, listening to it shatter against the fountain, "Fucking bastard." He bit out, hissing between dropped fangs. This family bullshit was getting old. It had been old for _decades._ He needed to do something to burn off this anger. Where the _fuck_ was Michael? He should've felt the pull by now, the instinct to join them once the sun went down. If this was the way it was going to be, fine, he'd go find Michael himself. Might even give him a little push in retaliation just to scare him for having to deal with Max.

* * *

Perimeters secured. Superman comics on lockdown. Garlic cloves in their sneakers. The Frog brothers were ready for yet another night of protecting Santa Carla from the ungrateful dead, and maybe making a little bit of money from selling some limited edition issues and model kits.

"You ready, Alan?" Edgar grunted, crossing his arms and intimidating each and every person who walked across the entrance to their store. Any one of them could be a bloodsucker. Especially grandma over there with her walker...the last one anybody would suspect. Anybody but Edgar and Alan Frog, that is. "Another night, another batch of unsuspecting tourists getting their throats ripped out…" He shook his head. "Good thing the city's got us." There was another weird one walking towards the store now, a dumb-looking jock with a mop of dark curls. "Get ready for it, Alan, this one could be nasty."

"Hey," the guy drew up towards Edgar, somehow unintimidated by his threatening demeanor, "my brother came in here last night...probably. You couldn't miss him, long coat, gelled hair...did he want to buy anything?"

"Yeah, he came in here." Alan eyed him wearily, "What's it to you?"

The guy scowled, "I'm in a hurry and I want to buy him something to read. Just give me a good comic, I've got about five bucks for it."

Edgar nodded at Alan to give his brother the cue, "there's a lot of stuff you probably don't know about Santa Carla, if you're Mr. Phoenix's brother…"

The guy raised an eyebrow, "I just want a comic, man."

Both of the Frog brothers closed in on either side of him, while Edgar dug out their trustee hunting manual and calling card, 'Vampires Everywhere' to shove at his chest. "Give this to Mr. Phoenix. He'll know what it's about. Our number's on the back. Pray that both of you never need to call us."

"Are you mental?" The guy demanded, looking down at the comic, "he hates this stuff. Don't you have anything with...I don't know, super heroes? I'm in a rush."

"Fine, but don't say we didn't warn you when you're a meal for the undead." Alan pulled out a Superman comic, "We will take no joy in finding your name up on the wall of missing victims because you didn't listen to us."

There was a pregnant pause before the guy fished out a crumpled five and passed it to Alan, slowly, like he expected one of the Frog brothers to snap at any moment. Maybe he wasn't so stupid...could sense their honed reflexes, the deadly skills of the inexperienced (but well-practiced) hunters. He also tried to give them the vampire comic too.

"Keep it," Ed advised, nodding to his brother. "You'll need it."

The guy rolled his eyes, tucking the comics both in one of his jacket pockets, "thanks."

By the time he was gone, something dawned on Edgar. "You think he's one of them? Trying to trick us?" He looked over at his brother with a suspicious frown.

"Nah, he's too stupid to be one of them, would have already tried to take us out by now. We're the only hope this city's got."

* * *

Michael cringed as he left the shop. There were dorks, and then there were mega dorks. Those guys were definitely way worse than both options. At least this would make up for ditching Sam, though. Even if it meant he wasn't going to be able to grab a bite to eat. Now he really regretted not having something before he left the house. Then again, he wasn't really sure what he wanted anyway. Red meat...maybe.

He hopped onto his bike. If he went home now, nobody would even know he'd left. Sam would have his dumb comics, too...and he wouldn't have to deal with the mom look again if she found out later. Just as he began to give the idea some serious thought, another much more intense one took root...the guys from last night...he could go hang out with them. Stay out a little later. From what little he remembered, it had been pretty fun. More than that, though...he almost felt like he _needed_ to go back to the hotel. Honestly, he'd felt that way ever since he'd woken up, but now it was so much stronger.

Once he'd made his way a good distance from the lights of the boardwalk, a growing sense of unease began to build in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. Like it or not, he just didn't have time to go to the hotel tonight. He'd have to go home. Settling on a new path back to the main road, he didn't end up making it very far. In fact, when the night was at its darkest, and the fog had eaten up what little illumination there was from the stars...his bike gave up the ghost and died.

He cursed under his breath, leaning forward to prop his arms up on his bike handles and cover his face with his hands. "Not tonight," Michael groaned. Starving. Stuck in the middle of nowhere...he should've just stayed home.

It was a long time before he finally decided to climb off and start pushing his way back to town. God only knew when he'd get there. Maybe it was pure dumb luck or maybe it was fate but the first person he saw when he got to the boardwalk was David leaning up against a rail.

"Michael." He scowled slightly, "What'd you do to your bike?"

"It died," he replied flatly, just a bit on edge. After his trek back, his conversation with the comic book weirdos, his near starvation...he wasn't in the best mood. "I didn't do anything but ride it."

"Let me take a look."

Michael parked it and stepped away, "be my guest," he shrugged. As if David could do anything without tools. Or just the light of the boardwalk to see by. As long as it had taken him to walk back, more than half of the shops were already closed down for the night.

"I've got some tools back at my bike, come on, it's not far." He turned and started walking a little further down the boardwalk. Michael pushed his bike after him and followed, catching sight of Paul, Dwayne, and Marko up ahead already huddled around their own bikes and leering oddly at passersby. Another private joke he supposed he wasn't in on. The first thing David did was turn the key and to Michael's surprise it sprung to life.

"What the fuck?!" He exclaimed, glaring at his bike as if it, the inanimate object, had somehow betrayed him by making him look like an idiot. "I tried to start this stupid thing at least ten…" True, he'd never had problems with it before, but the fact that it just so happened to give out on him tonight as particularly frustrating.

Marko's eyes danced with mirth, "happens to everyone, Mikey. Can't always get it up and going, y'know?"

Well, this was humiliating. "Thanks, David," he mumbled reluctantly, choosing to ignore Marko's snide remark.

Dwayne cuffed Marko on the back of the head, "Don't be a dick, Marko."

Paul squinted oddly at Michael, that same funny smile he'd had last night when he'd...done something. Michael couldn't really remember much, but he definitely remembered the smile. "Hey, you hungry?"

"Starving," he admitted, killing his engine. He'd blame the trouble on the cold weather and leaving it alone too long when he went to grab Sam's stupid comics. His stomach seemed to roar to life at the thought of food. Probably because he'd spent the whole day sleeping off that wine. To David's credit, he still wouldn't mind having more, though the side effects were a little more than he thought he could handle.

It felt oddly natural to fall in step behind the others when David started to lead the way. Even if the looks people occasionally gave them, a mixture between curious and nervous, some downright terrified...kind of bugged him. He wasn't one of them. He was just hanging out.

"Sorry about the other night, here's the burger place, just kind of got caught up in the moment." David said, motioning toward the little restaurant.

"Not your fault," Michael shrugged, "I should've said something." He didn't add ' _I'm the idiot who got drunk off my ass and forgot_.' It went without saying.

Marko laughed, and Dwayne elbowed him in the side. Michael glanced back at the two curiously, wondering what that was all about. He seriously doubted he'd ever understand these guys.

Paul slumped down at one of the few clean tables, looking as if his mood had soured all of a sudden as he gave David a quick dirty look.

"Am I missing something?" Michael looked between all of them, fishing into his pocket for the last of his lawn money. Not much. Grandpa was a cheap old bastard.

"Put your money away, it's on me, and you're not missing anything, Paul is just an asshole." David glared at him.

"You sure? I'm not a mooch," Michael shook his head. He hated to be indebted to anyone. As for Paul's attitude, all he could really assume was that the rocker apparently didn't like burgers.

David nodded, "I'm sure."

"Two cokes and a bag of chips," Marko held up his fingers, placing an order with a saucy grin as he leaned up against the railing that surrounded the patio of the burger shack.

"You don't need _two,_ Marko," Dwayne shook his head.

Paul crossed his arms, kicking a heel up onto the table and leaning back, "I want something else."

Michael sat down across from him, "just a burger and some fries." Not really what he wanted, but he couldn't think of anything else he was really craving. It was kind of annoying. Like a phantom itch he couldn't quite place. Honestly, he was surprised the place was even open this late at night, especially with the reputation Santa Carla apparently had for the whole murder capital thing. He honestly hoped the graffiti and his grandpa were just exaggerating, but he hadn't seen many storefronts without at least three posters of lost faces plastered to the windows.

Funny. David, Paul, Dwayne...even Marko...looked like they could conceivably even be responsible for a few of those missing people, but he seriously doubted it. He felt safe around them, for what it was worth.

David ordered some fries for himself and stole one of Marko's cokes since the little guy didn't need two no matter how much he thought he did, "Settling in alright, Michael?" He questioned, relaxing back in his seat.

He shrugged, "I'm living with Texas Chainsaw Grandpa, but it's alright. Still need to find a job," which he conceivably could have done if he hadn't slept all day.

Marko eyed the coke in David's grasp greedily, gulping at his own with loud slurps while simultaneously trying to snatch a fry from Dwayne's burger wrapper. He was slugged in the shoulder for his troubles and nearly dropped his one soda in the process.

David raised an eyebrow, "What's your grandpa like?" He prompted, growling when Marko tried to take a fry from him. Mom probably would've criticized their table manners, but Michael couldn't help a little smirk.

"He's alright. Freaky sense of humor. Stuffs bunnies and dogs for a living…" He was just about to scoop up a fry when he looked down and nearly gagged. Roaches were crawling all over them. He quickly shoved the container away, scattering bugs and potato scraps all over the table.

"Something wrong with your fries, Michael?" David asked, turning his gaze to the abandoned fries.

"They're fucking infested!" He exclaimed, pointing at them, but when he looked back down...there wasn't even one wriggling black body among the ruined food. "I…" Michael was bewildered, "they...they _were…_ "

Paul snickered quietly, shoveling down a few of his own fries and tearing Marko's coke from his hand when he wasn't looking. Marko didn't seem to care much, too busy hiding his smile.

Now he was doubting himself, maybe he'd...he didn't know what he'd seen. "Never mind," he sighed, scooping up his burger and beginning to unpeel the wrapper, embarrassed.

David pulled out his flask, offering it over, "Looks like you need a drink."

Given the night before, it was dumb idea. He _knew_ it'd be stupid to have any more of that wine, but...well...he hadn't gotten a coke, and...god, his mouth was watering just thinking about it. He reached out to take the flask, "thanks." The metal was cool in his hand, and he could almost swear he smelt the wine through the sealed lid...which was impossible. Burger already forgotten, he set it down on the table and eagerly unscrewed the top of the flask to take a long swig. Couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted. _This_ was what he'd been craving. Even better than the night before…

"Hey, Michael, want to see a great view?"

He slowly lowered the flask, already floating on that pleasant buzz from the night before, "where?"

"Train tracks, there's a great spot not too far away." David grinned, watching him take another drink.

When he fell into bed, hazily Michael wondered if he'd been dreaming or flying...but like the fog that consumed them in their wild path, the memory of it all disappeared with the dawn of a new day.

* * *

Maybe Mike was freebasing. Or mainlining lighter fluid. It'd explain the bad breath, anyway. Already 3, a lecture from mom, a weird speech about glass eyeballs from grandpa, and the asshole _still_ wouldn't get out of bed. Well, since he was out cold now was a chance to go through his stuff.

Was he seriously still wearing his jacket? Did he pull another window-climbing stunt last night, too?! He grumbled, maybe he could wake him up and search his pockets at the same time. He couldn't help but hum softly as he dug through the pockets of that stupid leather jacket.

There was a soft groan, and then Mike's raspy whisper, "what're you doing?"

"Trying to wake you up, asshole, mom invited Max over for dinner tonight."

"...Who?" He rasped dumbly, reaching over to fumble for his sunglasses on his bedside table, "get offa me, Sam," Michael slapped his brother's hands away from his jacket pockets.

"Guy owns the video store mom's working at." His fingers ran over paper, wait, a comic! He was hiding a comic in his coat. Before Michael could shove him away he managed to pull it out, "Mike! I didn't know you liked comics, since when?"

If he could see his eyes through the stupid shades, Michael would probably have been rolling them as he attempted somewhat sluggishly to prop himself up on his elbows. "Got it for you, dork…" He frowned, patting the same pocket Sam had found the illustrated treasure, "thought...thought I got two…"

Sam was off in his own little world as he started looking through the comic, "Dude, I don't have this one either! Thanks, Mike!"

"Yeah…" He mumbled, falling back in bed and slinging one arm over his face, "what time is it?" He licked his lips as he tried to clear his throat.

"Five, gotta get ready for dinner."

"Mmh…" He lowered his arm slightly, "why? Mom making something special?" They didn't generally sit at the table as a family much. Most dinners tended to be pretty quick, small affairs, even back in Phoenix with dad. Not that he was home much anyway.

"I told you, she's having some guy come over, gonna have spaghetti." He lowered his comic, "Are you even listening? What's up with you?"

For a second, it was like Michael just dazed out staring back up at him, or maybe even fell asleep. It was...kinda creepy. "...Think I ate some bad fries last night. Feel funny."

"Dude, need to go to the doctor? Like, funny how?" He prompted, "Maybe if you're sick dinner can be canceled."

"Nah," he slowly sat up, slinging a leg over the side of his bed with what looked like a Herculean effort, "going out tonight. Don't wait up." Seriously, he looked half-dead, and he was going to try to ride his bike? Something was definitely wrong with his brother.

"Mom wants you here for dinner." He scowled, "Where're you going, anyway?"

"Out," he yawned, finally managing to stand up and lumber across his bedroom, "what'd she say?" He lingered in the doorway, tensing up a little. The fact that he didn't remember anything that morning when mom had actually stood over him in bed telling him exactly why she was upset about his breaking his promise to her was bad enough. If he went out again tonight, Sam knew he'd be dragged into it too for not stopping him.

"That she wants you at dinner tonight, meet her boyfriend. Y'know, the guy I just told you about twice already? She doesn't want you sleeping all day either."

He grumbled, "little late for that," but his shoulders slackened a little, "alright. Fine, I'll stay home." He stalked down the hall towards the bathroom just as Nanook pelted through the door towards Sam with a slobbery tennis ball in his mouth, "Get the dog out of my room, Sam!" Michael called out, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Not long after, the sound of running bathwater seemed to signal the end of their conversation.

"Hey, Nanook...you think aliens took Mike's brain?" Sam knelt beside his dog, setting his comic aside to avoid getting any drool on it while he yanked at the tennis ball in Nanook's mouth. The husky whined back, namely to play.

"Yeah, you're right, I bet he lost it way before any aliens showed up," he snickered. "Maybe grandpa hid it in one of those dumb jackalope heads? Looks like it'd probably fit."

* * *

Thorn was in good spirits tonight. Why wouldn't he? The hellhound was enjoying the largest meal he'd been fortunate to get his claws on in over a decade, thanks to Star's willfulness in trying to let her intended victim out of the basement. Bright red spots flecked his fur and the white carpet he was parked on, while he continuously munched on a very large bone.

"We are going to dinner tonight with your new family, you _will_ be on your best behavior. We want to make a good impression, don't we?"

She remained thoroughly despondent, petting Laddie's hair, plucking at her skirt...a skirt which she had still yet to change in the short time she'd been here. Frustratingly silent. Passive. He would blame it on the hunger. The boy didn't even look at him. His wandering eyes generally just appeared to see through everything, always searching for something he couldn't find. This was sadly what came of not having a mother in the house.

"Get cleaned up so we can go." He ordered when he didn't receive a response. Thorn yawned and made a move to follow him, snapping up the femur he'd been preoccupied gnawing on.

"I'm not going," Star informed him.

"Oh, yes you are, young lady." He said sternly, "There is no way for you to get out of this." One more expectant growl, and having put Thorn back in his place, miraculously, they seemed to be leaving. The drive was an uneventful, tense affair. He could smell the dirt and sweat still clinging to the lace of her shirt. Still no bath in the girl's foreseeable future, apparently.

It was Samuel who answered the door, the pouting gatekeeper to his family's humble abode. "Mom," he threw back over his shoulder, "Max is here and he's got a posse!"

There was an older man leering towards them from a crack in one of the doors inside, slivers of red light peeking out while Sam waited for a response from Lucy, "Sam! Don't be rude!" She shouted from the kitchen.

He turned back to glower at Max, hardly sparing another glance for Star and Laddie behind him. "She's in the kitchen." He noticed the bundle of flowers in Max's grasp, and wrinkled his nose. This was clearly not a boy fond of anyone getting within six feet of his mother unless they were delivering mail. Unless someone intervened or endeavored to break the silence, it may very well last for the rest of the night.

"Sam! Go help mom!" Michael shouted from upstairs. It couldn't be anyone else. She only had two sons, after all.

Sam turned reluctantly back to face Max, "alright...well...I guess come in." He stepped back and stalked away from the foyer, right about the same time Michael slowly started trailing downstairs. Max somehow managed to maintain his polite and unaffected exterior, even though it wasn't _his_ blood he smelled running through the boy's veins.

Michael paused mid-step, staring in his direction, just past his shoulder at Star.

"Star?" He practically blurted out, perhaps even more surprised than Max was right now.

"Oh, Max!" Lucy appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hand with a kitchen towel, "this is Michael, Michael this is Max…" She looked over at Star and Laddie, "these are the kids you were telling me about? I'm glad I made extra."

Perhaps he could still control Michael through Star even though it was David's blood. He would be needing to deal with David of course, this was completely uncalled for, he _deserved_ to be punished. It was most certainly the final straw for the boy.

There was a soft click, and the door sealing off Lucy's father from the rest of the company was effectively closed for the night. Odd man.

Michael made a move for the door, when Lucy gave him a quick, short shake of her head. He didn't so much as say a word, and instead led the way into the dining room.

"I hope it's not bad luck to see the meal before dinner," Max remarked as he edged into the kitchen with Lucy.

"Ah," she smiled sweetly. Such a brilliantly innocent, kind smile. "You're thinking of the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding." Delicately, she grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred one of the pots on the stove, bringing it back and gingerly tasting a sample of heavily seasoned tomato sauce. The basil was fragrant enough to seep into her pores. He smiled back at her, holding out the flowers he'd brought.

They wouldn't have a traditional romance. There wouldn't be the time for that...but with Lucy, Max knew he could whip his boys into shape. She was the one. Unlike so many before her who had no interest in parenthood or the eternity he had to offer her, _this_ woman would not end up another missing person. Another body bundled up and tossed into the ocean. Another disappointment.

"I'm sorry about Sam, he's having a hard time with the move, so don't get too upset if he acts a little protective." She gathered a large serving dish to begin transferring pasta for the table, "could you help with the sauce, Max?" Her back was turned to him now, having set the flowers aside for the time being.

"Michael! Grab me the vase on the table, would you, sweetie?" She called out to her eldest son.

He seized that moment to do what must be done. It was a simple matter, hiding his face so that he could transform enough to draw a claw across his wrist, allowing a thick stream of dark blood to pour into the mixture. "It smells wonderful. Do you mind if I taste?" He inquired, not turning back to face Lucy, but instead allowing his features to return to their human guise.

"Go right ahead, tell me what you think!" She chirped, flattered that he was so excited about her cooking.

Snatching up the wooden spoon Lucy had placed over the top of the pot, Max quickly stirred until his blood had spread throughout, making the sauce only slightly darker...hardly detectable at all. He would have this done sooner rather than later. If you wanted something done right, you did it yourself. David had proved he wasn't quite up to the task, or even ensuring the proper feeding of a fledgling. Luckily Max would be there this time to guide them all.

Star stood in the kitchen door watching them both while Laddie clung to her skirt. Michael edged by both of them with a glass vase in his hand, and handed it to his mom, not once taking his eyes off of Star.

"Thank you, honey," Lucy kissed her eldest son's cheek and quickly separated the wrapper from the bouquet to align the flowers in the vase, "go ahead and take the noodles into the dining room. Sam should've already set the dishes by now…"

Slipping into the room with astonishing grace, Star grabbed the pot with the spaghetti sauce, "I'll help," she offered, her eyes focused on the kitchen floor while she put distance between herself and Max. She was probably feeling guilty for her poor behavior. Good. Well, this was turning out to be a very lovely evening.

* * *

So Max was her dad? Michael had a hard time believing that. He also had a hard time believing she was actually here tonight, the way she'd acted the last time he saw her. Like she was going to skip town or throw herself off a bridge just to get away from him. Now that mom had caught him in the act trying to sneak out just to avoid the awkwardness, he was going to have to spend dinner sitting across from her trying to figure out exactly _why_ she was so crazy.

Sam flopped down into one of the chairs at the dining table, grinning up at his brother, "saw you making goo-goo eyes. Got the hots for the hippy, Mike?"

"Shut up, Sam," he snapped, putting the dish on the table and sitting down beside him...but not without giving his shoulder a good pinch. He didn't feel in the least guilty when his little brother yelped and punched him in the side. Hardly even felt it.

"They really are lovely, Max, thank you," Lucy gushed, carrying the vase of flowers into the dining room to place it in the center of the table. The little boy trailed after Max solemnly. Maybe he hit them or something...no way that kid had a happy home life.

Star was the last to show up, almost ceremoniously carrying the pot of sauce. He frowned, eyeing her suspiciously. She had the same crazy, almost empty look she'd had when she ditched him on the boardwalk.

"Star, honey, just bring that over here," Lucy indicated a spot on the table, and like a mechanical doll, the girl swiveled on her heel to face them all...her eyes trained on Max. The rest happened in slow motion. First the ladle smacked the ground, sending little drops of sauce flying around it. Then, the waterfall of basil, tomato, and pasta sauce poured out in a great fragrant mess. Lucy yelped in shock, grabbing Max's shoulder, when the pot itself finally fell from Star's hands and she jerked back up to stare directly into her father's eyes. Not defiantly...there wasn't any sort of challenge there. Just sort of...empty. As if she'd accepted whatever was about to happen.

"Holy shit!" Sam exclaimed.

"Sam!" Lucy scolded.

" _STAR!_ " Max hissed with a disturbingly venomous tone. Daddy dearest showing his ugly face.

"...Wow…" Michael managed to add, not wanting to be the odd one out. She was crazier than he thought. Still pretty hot, but...wow...

No one really knew what to do. Star didn't apologize, or even explain herself. She'd definitely done it on purpose, that much was clear.

"Come on, Laddie," she held out her hand to the little boy, who hopped up out of his chair and quickly ran over to her to take her hand. "We're not hungry," she added, as if that would solve everything, before marching out of the dining room with her little brother in tow.

Max hadn't even placed his napkin on his lap, and he was tossing it back to the table, "I'm really very sorry about this, Lucy. I don't know what's gotten into her…" He removed his glasses, rubbing at his temples gently, "I'll clean it up. I…" He sighed. "I really don't know what to say."

She gave him a small smile, "It's alright, they're just acting out. It's understandable."

"Does this mean no cake tonight?" Sam snarked, jumping up from the table and rushing into the kitchen to grab a few towels.

It was probably just as well, even if he hated to see that shattered look on his mom's face. Michael really wasn't that hungry. "I'm gonna go...check on them...I guess," he said helplessly, standing up from the table.

Max took the towels from Sam, shaking his head in bewilderment still, "I really do apologize for this whole mess. I hope this doesn't color your opinion of me, Lucy." There was something really off about this guy. The fact that he didn't seem to care his daughter just went off the deep end and just let her walk off like that was a testament to it. Michael did not like him. He'd already had an uneasy feeling the minute Max walked into the house, like there was something really off about him...this only helped confirm it.

Star was outside on the front lawn, whispering something in Laddie's ear when Michael found her.

"Uh...what was that about?" He asked, a little wary, trying not to make any sudden moves as he approached. He didn't want to move too fast, just in case it set her off again or sent her tearing out into the dark like some frightened animal.

She looked up at him, "Michael…" She took a deep breath, "Have you drank any wine?" She asked softly, looking back toward the house, "I need to know."

Wine? "I mean, yeah, I guess. I'm more of a beer guy, though, but I think mom has some White Zinfandel in the fridge…" Was she drunk? Max must have seriously screwed these two up. Another good reason not to like the guy.

She shook her head, "No, I mean recently." She prompted, looking fearful.

He scratched his head, "I guess I had some a few times when I was hanging out with your friends. Why?" Where was she even going with this? Maybe they'd spiked it. That would explain the hangovers and the trippy dreams. Okay, so he just wouldn't go out and drink again. Problem solved. If Star's crazy behaviour was anything to judge by, maybe it'd be for the best. No telling what drugs she'd been pumping herself full of.

"It's blood, Michael." She just came out with it, blunt and to the point, "They made you drink blood." She sounded like she really believed it, too.

"Blood." He repeated the word with a disbelieving expression, not so sure whether _he_ should be the one running away this time. "I guess that's why you dumped mom's spaghetti sauce all over the floor, too? Because you think it was blood?" Acid. She'd fried her brain with a monster dose of acid. If Lucy had bad luck with men, apparently Michael's problem was crazy women.

"Max put his blood in the sauce, he wants your family to be like him."

Christ. That poor kid. Probably had to take care of his older sister like a nanny. Michael looked at Laddie, frowning slightly, "uhuh, he wants us to be like him, is that right? Because he drinks blood? Do you drink blood too, Star?" He tried to keep the condescension out of his tone, it'd probably be a good idea to try to keep her as calm as possible.

She shook her head, "No! I don't want to be like him and I don't want you to be either!"

He tore his eyes away from Laddie, holding a hand out to her and trying to smile as reassuringly as he could, "just come back inside. Nobody's going to drink blood, okay? We'll probably have to order pizza now. I'm sorry you and your dad-"

"He's _not_ my father." She bit out sharply before visibly deflating, "Of course you don't believe me but remember this when you're fighting to stay human, I tried to warn you."

Whether she was crazy or not, he felt bad. She needed help. "Yeah, I'll remember," he replied softly. "Do you wanna come back inside?"

Just as she was about to reply, her eyes snapped open wide and she spun about, searching the night for something he couldn't see, "they're watching," she whispered, shivering. "They're watching…"

Michael let out a sigh, "wh….Star, it's just us out here. Nobody's watching." Her paranoia must be contagious, he realised, unable to help squinting out into the dark. He could swear he _felt_ eyes on them, taking in their every move. That was insane, though, absolutely batshit.

* * *

Paul was draped upside-down on the couch, boots crossed over the back, hair in a bleached heap below him while he screwed up his face and examined the gruesome drawings in front of him, lazily flipping pages and cackling every so often to break the silence. "Vampires everywhere," he snorted. The comic they'd filched from Michael's jacket was only half fact, the rest just...wrong. Very wrong.

"Paul's reading for once, I think I'm going to die of shock." David chuckled. Watching Michael the previous night had been interesting, especially when Star just came right out and said it. Honestly he was surprised she had the backbone to do it.

Paul flipped David the bird, "hey, what if we'd just let him keep it, huh? You think his little bro would've been smart enough to pick up on the hints?"

Dwayne shook his head, dropping down beside Paul and giving one of his feet a good enough shove to send him toppling to the ground.

"We going to crash that party tonight?" Marko grinned, stroking one of his overfed pigeons.

"We'll never know, will we? I for one don't plan on giving him the chance to figure it out. As for the party, damn right we are. Take Michael with us, get his first kill out of the way." Would he do it, though? David couldn't really be sure. Unless he forced the halfling's hand, the results tonight could be unpredictable.

There was a general air of glee, excitement. The others hadn't fed since the grungy Surf Nazi lovers on the boardwalk, which was a fairly small meal between them. The good mood did not last very long. Max was there. They could smell him. No mistaking the aura of old death and aqua velva. David narrowed his eyes, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, focused on their entry, waiting for Max.

It was not his typical entry with the fatherly guise the head vampire was so fond of wearing. In fact, there was hardly any time to register exactly what happened, as Max swept into the hotel lobby snarling and grabbed David by his shirt collar to drag him into the air and suspend the blonde over one of the blazing oil barrels.

" _What are you trying to do, David?"_ He demanded with a hiss, and shaking him a bit for good measure.

David growled lowly in response, " _What do you mean, old man?"_ If he was going to get a beating he might as well earn it. He schooled his features into one of calm, he could still control this.

" _Santa Carla is_ _ **mine**_ _. All of you, every thing and one in this city belongs to_ _ **ME!**_ _Did you think I wouldn't notice you pulling that little trick with your blood on Michael? That I would just let it slip by without a consequence?!"_ He drew back his lips in a ferocious grimace, a promise.

The boys below were ready to defend their leader, if need be, no matter the danger...their loyalty was to David first. It would only take a word. David bared his teeth in response, "Would have loved to if the bottle wasn't fucking empty because Star and Laddie have been using it to avoid feeding." A lie, Star would never be that smart.

Max slammed him against one of the cave walls, dislodging a good chunk of old plaster and sending it hurtling to the ground, "I'll do the rest myself," he ground out, "if you _ever_ cross me again, David...you'll have more to deal with than just an extra unwanted sibling. Tomorrow, Laddie and Star will feed, and they'll be rejoining you boys where they belong. Understood?"

His clawed hands gripped at Max's, "We don't want them here." He bit out sharply.

He Enraged, Max slammed him against the wall again, ignoring the streaks of blood dripping from his hands where David's claws had embedded themselves. Fangs glittered for only a moment dripping with rancid saliva, before firmly being buried in David's neck. Only a few wrenching, tearing pulls, a few swallows of blood, while still more poured from his mouth as he pulled away. "Deal with it!" He growled, releasing his grip on David and slowly descending to the ground.

David snarled, eyes glowing gold with anger, refusing to touch the bleeding wound, glaring at him, his hands clenching into fists, drawing more blood. He needed to feed, one of the boys would have to bring home dinner.

Max smoothed out his tie, straightened his glasses, and plastered on his fake plastic smile once he'd returned to his human disguise. A stark contrast to David's blood dripping still from his mouth, spreading in a large red stain on his shirt. "Now, by this weekend, I should have your mother and brothers ready. I will expect all of you to join us for supper." He pretended not to see their hateful glares, or take note that all of the boys looked quite ready to kill him. "Good night, _kids."_ The last word uttered in a patronising tone right before he swiftly departed, licking David's blood from his fingers.

The moment he was gone David felt it. Like something sliding into place, Michael had made his first kill and they had _missed_ it all because of that pretentious asshole.

Dwayne bit into his own wrist and stepped forward to offer it to David when he reached the ground. There was no time for a proper hunt. Not anymore.

* * *

"Mom told you we're not keeping this stuff," Michael warned, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame while he watched his little brother tear into the boxes. That afternoon, he'd been woken up to find out Max sent a new TV, VCR, _and_ a shitload of tapes to their house as a weird overcompensating apology for Star. That's what the letter said, anyway. The asshole must _really_ want to get into mom's pants.

He felt even worse tonight than he had the night before, couldn't keep any food down, thirsty for god only knew what, because he certainly hadn't figured it out; the last thing Michael wanted to do was fight with Sam about this. "Just put it all back in the boxes, alright?" He made a move to try to grab Sam's hand when Nanook gave a soft growl. The dog was acting funny tonight, too.

"What're you doing to my dog, asshole?" Sam jerked up from the cables and wires he'd been trying to decipher, seeming to register Michael for the first time.

"...wh...are you serious right now?" He scowled back at him, jerking off his sunglasses, "I didn't do anything, and he's acting like I'm about to punch you out!"

"Mmh," Sam shrugged, going back to his work. The desperation for MTV and the struggle for civilized entertainment again was real.

"Well, leave him alone." He grumbled, shoving a red plug into the VCR.

"I didn't…" Michael suddenly lurched forward, groaning as he tried to grab at a nearby couch arm to steady himself. His stomach felt like it was eating itself from the inside out. "F...fuck!" He exclaimed, closing his eyes and trying to count to ten. Suddenly, a deep, seething rage seemed to take over. He clenched his teeth, stumbling to the door. "I'm gonna go for a walk!" Michael bit out, terrified he was going to do something awful to his brother, and he didn't know _why!_ The dog and the TV weren't that big a deal.

"Mike! What's wrong with you?!" He shouted after him, "Come on, man, it's just a TV! Mom's gonna be pissed you left!"

He didn't bother with so much as a second glance, slamming the door so hard behind him that the kitchen window rattled, and the bear in the entryway shuddered. His feet carried him forward, all the while Michael tried to fight with his temper, putting as much distance between himself and the house as possible. Every smell, every sound, every movement or snap of a twig under his sneakers seemed to make his brain throb in his skull, and his stomach twist even further.

Michael wasn't sure how long he walked or how far, before he saw her. A thin woman in a jogging suit with bright blonde hair and a hot pink sweatband, dance jogging to something on her Walkman, while a rat dog on a leash skittered after her, struggling to keep pace.

 _Get away…_

His mouth wouldn't work, couldn't summon the words. Something was _very_ wrong…

She could see him, now, too close to run. Too close for him not to...smell...something intoxicating. Not perfume, or salt air, something so much more…

She scowled slightly, starting to jog sideways, trying to put some space between them.

He tried to turn away, God how he _tried._ He wasn't in control anymore, though, something else was. Anger. Thirst…

The rat dog yapping and the sudden screams of the woman went unheard, when Michael lunged, dragging her into the air by some sheer force he wouldn't have understood even if he'd been aware of it. Teeth tore through skin and muscle, sharp nails...no... _claws_ pierced her bony shoulders as she kicked and fruitlessly tried to push him away, while the rat dog below tried to leap and snap at his heels.

Then it was all over. A broken doll lying on the ground, a small dog whining and pawing at her arms...Michael stumbled blindly back to the house.

He felt an odd cold sensation wash down his spine, a sense of loss. Pain...a searing blade digging into his heart and carving something out. Something important; gone as quickly as it came. Michael felt no great sense of guilt or regret over the woman he'd just killed. She was food. Nothing more. Still, he was confused...and the confusion made him even angrier once he'd made his way back into the house.

The lights were off.

Sam was sleeping, cradling Nanook on the couch while some black and white movie played on the tv.

Michael stared down at his brother, still tasting the blood of the dead woman on his tongue. He slowly reached towards Sam's shoulder, claws dripping with blood...then he drew back with self-disgust. He was hungry, wanted even more, but…

...Sam was still his brother.

It didn't matter anyway, because... _they_ were outside. He knew it. He felt it.

Michael withdrew his hand, slipping out of the living room and through the kitchen to snatch up a towel to dry his hands and face. There'd better be some fucking explanations. Star…

"Shit," he cursed, not sure whether it was at himself or something else, as he tossed the bloodied towel into the sink and stalked outside to the front yard.

David was waiting for him. He was looking worse for wear, blood was dried on his collar and throat. The others flanked him, all grinning, all waiting. Waiting for him to join them.

Michael narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking at all of them until he settled on David, "what did you do to me?" He rasped.

He spread his hands, welcoming, "I changed you." He grinned, "Made you better."

"Better?!" The fuck did that even mean? Michael pressed his lips together in an attempt to smile, "is that right?" He slowly drew closer to them until he was within arm's reach of the smugly grinning blonde.

"You're one of us now, Michael." David said softly, "Never grow old, never die, party all night."

"Oh, okay, glad you cleared that up for me," he nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dwyane sighed, "A vampire, Michael, you're a vampire."

"Bloodsucker," Paul threw out.

"Undead nightstalker," Marko agreed, biting the thumb of his glove.

He took just a moment to absorb it all. Then, smile still plastered onto his face, Michael very happily decked David with all of the force he could muster. A blow that would've broken a normal man's jaw.

David growled lowly and rubbed his jaw, "That's one, one free hit. Anymore than that and I'm afraid I'm going to have to retaliate."

Michael glared back at him defiantly, though his temper seemed to have cooled considerably after he'd killed that woman. "Why?" He didn't ask for this. He was...he _had_ been a decent guy. Not perfect, but not a murderer either.

"Because I see something in you." He paused, seeming to debate with himself, "Aside from that, to save you from Max."

"I don't…" Star had mentioned Max's blood before, said he wanted them all to be like him. "You drugged me with _his_ blood to save me from him? That makes no goddamn sense!" This was only getting more confusing by the minute, and he didn't like it. Didn't like Max, didn't like the idea of being turned into a monster against his will. Not that he'd have agreed to it even if they _told_ him beforehand.

David let out a snort. "Fuck, no, I gave you _my_ blood."

"Mike?" Sam called out from the porch, groggy, "what're you doing out there?" He scowled, "mom'll be home soon."

Michael looked back at his brother, glad he'd cleaned his face, that he couldn't feel sharp claws digging into his clenched fists, or fangs biting into his lips, and even more grateful he was blocking Sam's view of David. "So what if I just go back inside and pretend none of this ever happened? Will Max try to get to them too?" He whispered, quiet enough that Sam couldn't hear him.

"Yes, he wants them to be his perfect little family. Thinks we're his kids and we need a mother." He rolled his eyes, "Wanted you to be his too but I saved you from that. Only way to stop him is to kill him." He paused, "Also, if you went back in there and played human you'd eat one of them or fry yourself when the sun comes out."

Not something he wanted to think about, those two choices. He let out a deep breath, suddenly exhausted with the whole thing. "So what now?"

"Now, you come with us, we go eat a party, and then head home."

Was it really that easy, to just drop everything, his whole life, his sense of humanity, everything, eat a bunch of innocent people he didn't even know? Michael searched himself for the little voice that guilted him over stealing an extra donut from his brother, or lying to a chick just to get a date...and apparently it wasn't there anymore. Honestly, he was still starving, and now that he knew _what_ he was craving, well…how or why would he even fight it?

"Alright," Michael shrugged, stalking back to the garage for his bike. "Sam, tell mom I won't be back tonight!" Mom would be pissed, but better that than dinner.

David grinned, turning and heading back to the road where they left their bikes, tonight was shaping into a good night.

* * *

Dwayne _hated_ Aerosmith. Anything was better than Dream On. Musical taste _alone_ was enough to take out this party of surf nazis, even if he wasn't hungry after feeding David he would have been happy to off them. They were a sustainable resource, too...you killed two, four more would pop up next summer. Something about Santa Carla seemed to attract crime like flies to rotten fruit. Or moths to a bug zapper. In this case, drunken dumbfucks to a bonfire.

Marko was screeching with laughter and dragging one of his victims across said fire, charring the screaming man to a crisp before he towed him into the air to chow down. Sadistic little imp.

Paul was having a shouting competition with his own meal, seeing who could howl the loudest...the idiot had a fair lead, but he also wasn't bleeding out through a gaping wound in his stomach, either. Nor was he missing an arm.

David was, feasting, that was really the only way to describe what their leader was doing. His run in with Max had left him starving and he was glutting himself on two at once, switching between bleeding throats and growling at whoever came near him.

Michael...he just stood on the very edge of the beach clearing, leaning against a tree and silently watching. His hunger was readily apparent, face just as gruesomely drawn as the rest of them, but he stubbornly maintained his distance.

"Michael." David's voice was rough, "Come, feed."

His descent over the dunes was slow, reluctant. There was still a lot of anger, or maybe just irritation, brewing beneath the surface at all of them. Any idiot could see that. Wouldn't even so much as look at David as he drew towards one of a few Surf Nazis who'd tried to run first, knocked unconscious in the sand for easy pickings later. A large cut on the man's prickly shaven scalp bled out into the sand.

Paul and Marko had lost interest in the remains of their kills, and were quickly edging in behind Dwayne to try and get a few nips at his own victim. He growled, shouldering them away with a warning glare, so he didn't see when Michael finally dropped to his knees and fed. He did get to see when David finished his meals and made his way over to their newest, grinning down at him.

"Welcome to the pack."

* * *

"Star," Laddie whispered at the basement door, struggling to stay awake so he could unlock it at let her out. Max had trapped her down there, promised to kill her tonight if she didn't eat. "Star, are you awake?" He tried again, slowly struggling to pull the door open. He'd spent the last two hours trying to keep himself up long enough to stumble across the house to get to her. The dog was outside, so he was safe to move around. For now. Any minute something could happen, and Star wouldn't be the only one trapped downstairs…

"Laddie, you have to let me out." She said softly.

There was a metal bar across the door, heavy, almost immovable in his current state. "Star, I can't," he protested, on the verge of tears. "It won't move!"

"We have to kill him." She pressed against the door, "We have to before he wakes up."

"I don't know how," he protested, smacking his fists helplessly against the bar on the door. It was stuck. Max probably knew he'd try. "I'm sleepy," Laddie rubbed at his eyes, trying to keep them open. This was one of the toughest things he'd ever done. "I don't wanna be a vampire, Star. I just wanna go home."

"Laddie, listen to me, you have to listen. You need something sharp, something wood. You're going to have to drive it into his heart." She explained softly.

"I can't, Star!" He leaned his face against the door, "I'm not strong enough." He was getting _so_ sleepy…

"Laddie, you have to, you _must_ or we're both doomed, we'll be vampires." She pleaded, barely hiding a note of hysteria in her voice.

"No!" He nearly shouted, shaking his head and covering his face, sobbing and peeking through his fingers at the room around him. A kitchen. A table...a couple of wooden chairs. "S...Star…" Laddie pushed himself against the door to support himself. His legs felt like jelly. "I'm gonna try."

Each step he took seemed to pull him further back to sleep, but Laddie didn't let himself close his eyes. He couldn't let Star down. Didn't want to hurt people, or be like Dwayne, David, Marko, Paul...and definitely not Max. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to go back to his family...if he fell asleep, Star was right. They'd be lost. Forever.

It wasn't easy to break the chair, no matter how hard he tried to slam it against the marble tile. Thorn was scratching at the front door now, yowling. The dog could probably tell he was gonna do something, wanted to stop him. Laddie could feel his heart hammering in his chest, splinters digging into his hands when he finally broke one of the legs off of the chair and practically crawled from the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs...and very slowly, groggily, inched across the bright white carpet leading towards Max's bedroom.

He'd never been in there before...but something told him deep inside, that was where the devil slept. Honestly it wasn't hard to find him, sleeping in a bed which surprised the halfling, that wasn't how David and the others slept. He'd only seen them hanging once or twice, but it wasn't something you forgot.

Laddie took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet again, supporting himself against the wall to edge alongside it, get closer to the bed without waking him…

"Max?" He whispered, managing to finally make it to the bed, stumbling against the bedframe as he hefted up the broken chair leg.

He didn't stir, laying still and seemingly dead in the bed. In sleep, his face held none of the false 'kindness' he tried to show everyone, just that empty cruelty. A monster. A vampire.

Laddie hefted up the chair leg, bringing it down with all his might, screaming, when Max's eyes finally snapped open in agony. "YOU'RE NOT MY DAD!"

The vampire wailed, thrashing in his bed, for a brief moment he stilled and Laddie thought it was all over until he literally exploded in a mass of blood and fluids, coating the room and the newly human child by the bed. Thorn howled forlornly as everything seemed to settle and Star's relieved laughter came from the basement. Now all they had to do was get out of here.

Goodbye Santa Carla. Goodbye death. Goodbye Max.

* * *

He felt it long before he opened his eyes, and woke nearly an hour before the sun set. It felt like someone had torn something out of him, reached into his blood and pulled that foreign part of him that he associated with Max out. Somehow, Max was dead. The forced blood connection had been severed and that could only mean the other vampire had bit the big one. The question was, how, and what were they going to do now that he was gone?

The boys hadn't actually ever known Santa Carla without a head vampire. The last one was their sire, and it had been less than a week after his death that Max came in to take his place. Maybe it was time David stepped up. He was old enough now, didn't want someone else to come in and either wipe them out or bond them again. It was nice to think that he could have avoided the situation with Max altogether if he'd just been paying more attention when the former head vampire showed up in Santa Carla, but he'd been too young. No way he could have won that fight. Now though he was stronger, had his own child even. He could hold this city, especially with the help of his pack.

" _Already awake, man? Sun's still out."_ Marko's voice sleepily cutting into his mind, the smaller vampire ever aware when someone else woke up first, but otherwise dead to the world when being lazy suited him.

" _Max is dead."_ He replied.

Marko cracked open his eyes, blinking them several times to clear his vision, hands still clasped together across his chest, " _how d'ya know?_ "

He dropped down from his perch, " _I don't feel him anymore."_ He replied, " _The whole blood bond thing, it's gone."_

" _Seriously?" Now_ he was really awake, even went so far as to unwrap his arms and give Paul beside him a good shake, "hey, wake up!"

Paul gave a start, nearly slipping from his perch before he managed to recover and grab at Dwayne's shoulder to steady himself, "huh? What?!" He looked around, half-awake and bewildered.

"Max is dead." David said aloud, arms crossed over his chest.

Dwayne yawned, drawing in a deep breath, a little bit less startled than Paul had been to be disturbed from his sleep, "always nice to wake up to good news. How?" He quickly unlatched his clawed feet from his perch and descended to the ground.

"Haven't figured that out yet, thinking we should go pay him a visit."

"If he's really dead, can I have the dog?!" Marko called down hopefully, loud enough to disturb dirt and bits of sand above him. Miraculously, Michael slept through it. He had a few years to go before he'd be able to even wake up this early before sunset.

David couldn't help but laugh, "We'll see, who knows if hellhounds die with their master anyway. Might just be a pile of bones." He looked up toward Michael, "Gotta wait for our new brother to wake up."

Paul unlatched his feet from his perch and dug them into Marko's chest to give himself a good kick off into the air, swooping down with an obnoxious laugh when he looked back to grin at the smaller vampire glaring after him.

"You ruined my best shirt!" Marko whined, jettisoning after him, and very nearly knocking Michael down in the process.

David grabbed Paul by the hair, tugging him to the ground, "Don't be an ass."

He grinned up at David, hair still in their leader's grip, "I'm not doing nothing. My feet slipped and Marko was in the way, that's all."

"Dick," Marko mumbled, landing beside him and giving Paul a good kick in the leg. "Gonna have to go shopping…"

"You'll live." Dwayne rolled his eyes.

"I bought my first bike in this shirt," Marko bemoaned, "I ate my first girlfriend!"

Paul managed to tug his hair out of David's hand, tenderly nursing some of the torn ends with a silent pout, while the others just glared at him. Marko would be bitching all night about his stupid shirt.

"Stole your first bike." David shot back, letting go of Paul.

"Hey, I paid the guy back, didn't I?" Marko smoothed back his hair, "ate his bitch of a wife. Did him a favor." Once Paul had climbed to his feet, Marko gave him a good shove, "you owe me, asshole."

Before they knew it, Paul and Marko were scuffling on the ground together in playful anger, getting dangerously close to a beam of light filtering through a crack at the edge of the chamber. This was a painful reminder why David avoided waking any of them before sunset. They were trapped together. Tended to make them a little stir crazy.

He sighed, "Hey, cut it the fuck out or I'll push you into the sun."

Before David could even make a move to break them up, Dwayne tackled him to the ground and was attempting to mercilessly noogie him. David snarled, thrashing in his grasp, grabbing him tightly, snapping at his hands.

Marko and Paul scrambled to their feet and dived right for the pair, effectively dogpiling and pinning David down in a flurry of snapping fangs and tearing fabric.

"I'm gonna go ahead and call this a win for me," Paul decided, having managed to wrestle his way to the top of the pile.

None of them expected David to surge up from the bottom of the pile and sink his fangs into the back of Paul's neck. The rocker yelped, trying to scratch at the ground to gain some purchase and get away, but it was pretty futile. A moment after he stilled David pulled back and licked his lips slowly.

"And who won?" He questioned.

"Paul did," Marko remarked, "you'd better bite him again, just for good measure."

Paul glared up at him, "shut up, Marko. David won. Won because he's a cheating asshole..."

"Holy fuck, are you always this loud?!" Michael shouted from above, rubbing his eyes groggily. The sun had finally set. Just barely.

"We've been up for an hour." David replied, brushing off his pants.

He didn't have an easy time of it, but after a few tries trying to unhook his claws from the perch, Michael managed to make it to the ground, albeit with a very shaky landing. "Do you always sleep like that?" He scowled at David, kneeling down to scoop up his discarded socks and sneakers.

"Yeah, always. Sleeping on your back is uncomfortable."

Michael looked a little dubious, but he kept his mouth shut. He'd probably have a lot more questions in the near future, and this really was the least of them.

Paul flung an arm around Michael, giving him a good shake, "ready to party, Mikey?"

"...What? I just woke up." He clearly wasn't in the mood to joke around this early, nor had he seemed to become any happier about his new undead lifestyle either. Probably would have been easier if Max hadn't fucked up their chance to help with his first kill. Fun or not, the first one was always tough. Worse if you did it alone. Even worse than that if you didn't even know it was going to happen

Max was gone, now, though...that was pretty much the last of his bullshit they'd ever have to deal with. Michael would get over it. Eventually.

"We're going to take a little drive, go see what happened to Max." David said, changing the subject.

The younger vampire's eyebrows shot up immediately, "something happened? When?"

"Last night, it's what woke me up."

"I'm getting a dog," Marko threw in helpfully.

"You're not bringing it home," Dwayne reminded him again, one more time for good measure, "it's probably dead, Marko."

"Doesn't stop Paul from dragging home leftovers," he snapped, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Well, Paul is going to _stop_ bringing home leftovers."

"Dude…" Michael wrinkled his nose in disgust, "you bring home _dead people?!_ WHY?"

Paul shrugged, not even the least bit ashamed of himself, "sometimes I don't finish them all at once and I like to have a snack before bed. I don't see what the big deal is. Not like I bang them or anything."

"You like to leave them in poses around the caves, they smell, it's disgusting, you're done doing it." David decreed.

Paul and Marko both did their own silent pouts, all the way out to the hotel lobby, and even up until they reached their bikes outside. Michael eyed David dubiously, climbing onto his own, "is it always like this?"

"Which part?" He replied, "The pouting or acting like overgrown children?"

"Both." He glanced over at Paul and Marko, and finally Dwayne, at the ready between them just in case they decided to start another stupid scuffle.

David sighed, rolling his eyes, "Almost every night it's one or the other."

The uncomfortable look on his face seemed to say, ' _so I'm stuck with these guys forever?'_ Frankly, so did his thoughts. But he tried to keep it to himself. Sooner or later he'd figure out it was impossible, but one step at a time. They had an eternity to teach him. Given his mood, bringing the topic up now to Michael probably wouldn't improve matters. Fuck Max for screwing this up.

He gave Michael a firm pat on the shoulder, "Come on, let's go see what the damage is." At least this would get his mind off it.

They rode like phantoms in the crisp night air, seeming to rise and fall with the fog, moving together as naturally as a force of nature. The heaviness of being under the head vampire's thumb seemed to have disappeared entirely, and all of them could feel it. Even Michael. It was another kind of high David hadn't felt since his true sire died. A high he'd never forgotten. Freedom. His true sire had been a good one, he'd been lucky, until Max.

David wasn't going to let that happen again. Santa Carla belonged to _them._ That old bastard was just a placeholder until David was strong enough. Well, 90 years...yeah, that was plenty of time. Now it was in his hands again and he wasn't going to let it go.

The first thing David noticed when they finally got to Max's place were scorch marks on the porch in the uncanny shape of a large dog. Well, that answered the first question, hellhounds bit the dust when their master did. Probably meant there was a shitload of work in making one, too. Marko wouldn't be bringing home one of his own any time soon.

Paul was the first to make his entrance, kicking the front door in with a dramatic flair. Nobody around anymore to tell him not to, or a demonic dog to tear a chunk out of his ass either. "Lucy, I'm home!" He shouted, sticking his nose up in the air and scenting it. "...I think we've got guests."

David tipped his head back, taking a deep breath before heading for the basement. Laddie was in front of the door and David took that moment to cross his arms over his chest and look down at him, "Well, well, hello Laddie."

The boy looked back at him, panicked, and pressed his back against the door with a whimper, "don't eat us!" He was _covered_ in Max's dried guts, reeking of rot and old death. A pathetic human waif, who had somehow it seemed...managed to _stake_ Max!

"Did you off him, kid?" David asked, raising an eyebrow before looking at the door, "Marko, unblock the door."

Marko gave David a 3-fingered salute, skipping towards the door and kneeling beside Laddie to effortlessly lift him into the air. The boy screeched in fear, before he was dropped in a heap a few feet away, and Marko happily lifted the bar.

Laddie scrambled to his feet, backing up against the wall, his eyes widening as he surveyed them all, lingering on Michael, before returning to David, "I...I...I did...I'm sorry!"

"Don't be sorry, you did us a favor, so now we're gonna do you one. We're gonna let you live." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Don't kill Star, either," he whispered, huddling down into a crouch, quivering. What little bravery the boy had possessed that allowed him to kill Max had obviously disappeared in the face of four...no... _five_ other vampires.

Once the door was yanked open, Star fell over in a heap at Marko's feet with a yelp, her swathes of dark hair clouding on the floor like dark mist. She slowly, nervously lifted her head to look up at her savior, to find Marko in all his vampiric glory, fangs dripping, waving down at her.

"Hey baby," he grinned. One word and she'd be a snack. She wasn't even half of what they were anymore. Just a human. Just a meal. But...she'd served her purpose today. Laddie very likely wouldn't have killed Max on his own without a push.

Michael grew tense and very nearly stepped forward, just in case Marko got the urge to chow down. There was still some sentiment on the fledgling's part for the girl he'd chased to his own death. A feeling that would likely linger for some time, if her life was cut short in light of recent events.

"I smell another meal down there, want to go take a bite, Michael? Thinking I should have a little talk with Star." He kept his eyes on her as he spoke.

Michael's eyes flitted back to David. He was hungry. They always were in the beginning. More than that, though, he didn't want Star dead. "Are you gonna-"

Star squeaked, covering her face in shock, looking over at Michael and then David when it finally dawned on her _why_ he was there with them. One of them.

"I'm not gonna eat her and the others aren't either. Go, eat." He stated calmly. His voice has a soothing effect on Michael, calming him a little. The younger vampire didn't linger to reassure Star, as much as he'd have liked to. The meal was too much to deny, but he did try to offer a faint smile before he disappeared down into the dark. The screaming that followed was _very_ short-lived. Music.

Star drew her knees close to herself, petrified. In an impulsive move, very likely reminiscent of what it took for him to kill Max, Laddie scrambled over to her and pressed his head into her shoulder to await whatever was about to happen.

"I'm feeling generous, you both get to live, under one condition," he held up a finger for emphasis, "you leave my city and never come back."

She tried to set her jaw stubbornly, to muster a sliver of the occasional bravery she demonstrated in the face of David, but Star was tired. Exhausted. She glanced behind her towards the basement steps, a desperately sad look in her eyes. Regret, perhaps. "Okay," she agreed slowly. "Laddie's parents live in Santa Carla, but...I'll find a way to help them leave." She paused, adding in a quieter voice, "I tried to help him." Not Laddie. Michael.

He raised an eyebrow, "He can stay, until he's old enough to go on his own." He smirked, "Michael didn't need your help then and he doesn't need it now."

She slowly stood up, keeping her eyes to the ground while she still held Laddie as close as possible, and remaining absolutely silent as they made their way out of the house. She was sure to creep along the edge of the room as far away from the boys as she could manage. Seventeen going on seventy.

"Shame to see her go," Dwayne drawled sarcastically, "life of the party."

David let out a snort, "Yeah, kept things going." He looked down the stairs, "No worries though, got a brand new life of the party eating his way through his meal."

* * *

It took Michael a week to work up the courage to go home and see his family. Let them know he was still alive. Make sure he'd been more than well-fed before he made the trip. The only thing he had to worry about now as he stood out on the front lawn was which excuse to go with. Did he need to get away for a bit, go back to Arizona? Or maybe he'd just found a job with free room and board so Lucy didn't have to worry about buying as much groceries anymore. A temporary loss of sanity? An infectious disease he needed to quarantine himself for?

Whatever story he was going to tell, the first step would be actively going to the front door. If he waited any longer, they'd probably think he was dead. It probably didn't help that he'd gone 'missing' right about the same time Max had. Didn't help that he felt kinda weird being alone for the first time since he'd killed. Being with the others felt safer. More natural. That _should_ bother him, but it didn't.

"Mom?" Michael finally called out, pushing open the front door. It creaked, predictably enough, going further to announce his presence than his voice alone. "Sam? Grandpa?"

"In here, Michael," he heard the gravelly voice of the old man. He narrowed his eyes, not much liking the sound. Something was wrong. He had an inkling something major was about to change. Everything was changing. Too much. His home. His loyalties. His diet. Michael had hoped this small house packed with dead animals and the only humans in the world he didn't see as meals...he'd hoped it would stay the same. Not much chance of that, though, was there? Knowing what he was now, Michael realized, he, David, Marko, Dwayne, Paul...they would in essence always remain the same. Even if he hadn't asked for it, at least there was that.

"Grandpa?" Michael slipped into the kitchen. The old man was just sitting at the table in the dark, staring at a folded dish towel in front of him.

"How long have you been up?" Michael asked warily, sitting across from him. He could smell the crusted blood on the towel. The same one he'd used to wipe up the remains of his first meal from his face.

"Saw your bike comin' through the bedroom window. Lucy and Sam are sleepin', Michael. I think it's about time you tell me exactly what happened to you…" The old man narrowed his eyes, and behind them Michael caught a glimpse of that same odd intelligence he'd seen only once or twice when grandpa wasn't carving up bunnies or playing dead on the front porch. He couldn't lie to him. Grandpa would see right through it.

"I…" Michael licked his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as all of his excuses evaporated into nothing, leaving him only with the harsh, ugly reality. He'd have to tell him everything, but...then what?

 _Well...shit…_


End file.
